Lovecraft eZine Megapack - 2011 Page 3

  At the bottom were small dead trees and thorny shrubs acting like barriers and guardians. Their limbs and decayed exposed roots seemed like gnarled and twisted fingers that stretched out to them from the ground and air wanting to grab them and steal their life. Even the ground was bare and devoid of any lightening thought.

  Lane looked over to Mark, “Uhhhhh…maybe this wasn’t such a good idea.” The feeling of uneasiness crept through his body as the last bit of light slowly disappeared in the sky. Night claimed the world.

  “No, you brought us here; we are going to see it once and for all.” Mark’s eyes were glued to the tower.

  “Man, I don’t even know if I got a flashlight in the car,” said Lane. The thought of going inside that tower without a light sent chills up Lane’s spine and to the top of his head. “How are we gonna see inside that thing?”

  Mark reached in his pocket, pulled out his lighter and flicked it on, “With this.”

  Lane pushed off the hood of his car. “You’re crazy, that little thing!?” He exclaimed while pointing to Mark’s lighter.

  “You’ve got yours, too, don’t you?” asked Mark.

  “Well yeah, but…”

  “But what?”

  Lane didn’t want to admit it, but he was scared. The story Mark just told him, the tower looming over them like some ill omen, and worst of all it was nightfall and the darkness seemed thick and poised to engulf them. Nothing good ever happens in the dark. Only bad and terrible things happen in that lightless time, Lane thought scaring himself even further, while trying to hide it from Mark. “I dunno,” Lane said. His voice carried the timber of fright. “What if we get hurt or fall? You aren’t planning on going to the top are you?”

  Mark’s lighter was still burning and his face seemed hideous in the shadows cast by its flame. “We are going on the whole tour, top to bottom.”

  “Shit,” Lane said, “man you’re nuts.”

  “You brought it up,” Mark said, and walked toward the tower. He turned back to Lane, “You coming?”

  “Yeah, I guess so.” Lane followed him only after searching his car for all the lighters he could find. He only found one; the one in his pocket. Lane was right; no flashlight was in his car.

  Mark was standing at the doorway when Lane eased behind him. The door was not very big, barely large enough for them to get through. Its wooden door hung on rusty hinges and was slightly open. Strong odors wafted from the tower’s insides; horrid stenches of decay, mildew, and old age. Lane choked as a light breeze issued from the darkness before them filling their noses with its putrid smell.

  Lane lit his lighter and peered over Mark’s shoulder. He could see nothing inside. Mark turned around and noticed that Lane’s lighter was shaking. Mark looked at Lane and saw the fear on his face.

  “You don’t have to come inside if you don’t want to, Lane.”

  Lane looked at him. The shadows cast by Mark’s own lighter made Lane think he was a mad carnival man inviting him inside to see the spectacle and the madness within. Lane almost spoke up to say he didn’t want to go, but the fear of his own humiliation stalled his words. “Nah, I wanna see, too, it’s just a lot different now that we are here standing in front of it.” Lane said, and looked around quickly, “This place gives me the creeps.”

  “Its rather unsettling isn’t it?” Mark said, but made no inclination of opting out of not entering the tower. Before Lane could answer Mark plunged inside, the darkness took him. Lane tried to call out to him, but his voice was stolen; stifled by his own fear. Lane sat there for seconds which seemed like hours to him. The odor from the darkness was over powering and sent waves of nausea through his body. He was afraid to take that first step inside across the dark threshold. He was a child again in that instant, afraid of the Boogey Man, the thing in the closet, the monster under his bed, and many other childhood fears. His mind was playing him like a concert pianist, touching just the right keys that made him cringe and shrink with fear; each note closer to total chaos; total breakdown. Insanity. Fear of the dark.

  What could be up there? Would they find anything or would it all be old floors and dust? A thought came to Lane’s mind; a thought that made him wait longer before stepping inside to the unknown; a mysterious darkness overwhelmed him and made him feel small like a frightened child. Helpless. What if there is something in the tower and its waiting for us to come in? What if Mark’s grandpa was right and was telling the truth in his outlandish tale? Even worse, what if we found a dead body; a skeleton lying on the floor sitting for years collecting time in its black ocular skull. The fears and questions were mounting and Lane did his best to keep calm. But it was hard, too hard to do standing in front of this rectangle shape of blackness; a blackness that he knew nothing about, but feared what lied within it. Lane followed; lighter still shaking only now his whole body was shaking, too. He took a deep breath and stepped inside.

  Mark was waiting for him only a few steps in. The odor tripled in strength as he entered and Lane almost retched right there in front of Mark. It took a while for his eyes to adjust to the stench filled dark.

  Lane said, through choking gasps of air, “What..was..this..tower for?”

  Mark answered, not bothered by the odor, “It was a feed storage tower for the farms just outside of town. The railroad cars brought it in. There is a service track behind the building. I know you must have seen it. That’s what the bridge is for, the railroad. It’s what made this whole town and put it on the map.”

  Lane turned to his right to get a little more room and was about to answer when hundreds of strands of sticky webbing clung to his arms, head, neck, and face. He danced wildly about in the dark hollering, arms flailing like a marionette controlled by a madman. Lane thought he would be ok, it was just spider webs, but then he felt a considerable weight hit the nape of his neck. He froze. Legs danced across his skin, a thousand it seemed to Lane, he fumbled and jerked in the dark. The legs holding the unseen weight cantered down his shoulder onto his arm then to his wrist. Lane yanked his hand hoping to fling whatever it was crawling across his arm into the air like a bullet and then into the wall. But it didn’t happen that way. Lane brought his arm around in a whipping motion and felt the weight start to break free, but before it was launched into the darkness he felt two tiny stings between his thumb and index finger.

  “Shit!”

  “What?”

  “Something just bit me.”

  Mark, in a steady voice, said, “We’ll take care of it when we leave. Probably just a spider bite. C’mon.”

  “Just a spider bite,” Lane said. His voice tinged with disbelief.

  Why he obeyed Mark he didn’t know, but he followed him to the stairs. He looked around the big square room and noticed he could see better than before. Before Lane joined Mark at the stairs he moved over to the walls and touched them out of curiosity. His hand felt the cold pebble filled concrete. He moved his hand across its surface and felt raised portions of the wall. Lane backed up a step and held the lighter out in front of him.

  The raised portions of the wall cast long shadows. Lane could see they were reliefs of some kind made when the tower’s walls were formed. He ran his fingers over them and could almost swear he felt tiny vibrations within them.

  “Hey, look at this.”

  Mark moved over to him and Lane showed him the reliefs. Mark stood for a few minutes staring at the reliefs that adorned the walls. They were everywhere in no discernible pattern.

  “Odd, huh,” Lane said, “wonder what they’re for.”

  Mark nodded then shrugged his head and moved on. Lane followed him. They made it to the steps which were concrete and stained a dark and sickening color. Mark went first slowly judging the steps’ stability. Their lighters were both lit and the light began to grow in the darkness. Lane looked at the walls as they climbed the tower’s steps. They climbed in silence. The floor had an inch of soot or dust that layered over the years making their footsteps hushed whispers. They climb
ed on.

  Even with the poor light Lane and Mark could see the reliefs that were scattered across the walls and they looked molded or drawn on by a child. They said nothing to each other about the second set of disturbing raised images on the walls, but their uneasiness came back like a flood. They reached a landing and stopped.

  Mark searched the room with his lighter dancing and flickering as he walked. Lane stood still and rubbed his swelling hand. It was darker up here and Lane began to shift uneasy on his feet. He saw Mark off in a corner bent over. He looked like some old crone bending down to cast a spell. He looked to the left and saw another flight of stairs that were the color of night. He almost missed them, but they glistened on their edges like an oil slick from the light. Lane turned back around and saw other reliefs and now writings on the wall. Symbols and what he thought had to be words sprawled across the tower’s insides. They went high, too, higher than any human could have drawn. His mind thought a giant wrote them and he looked back to Mark banishing the irrational thought from his mind.

  Mark came over to him and held out his hand. “I found these in the corner.” Lane looked and saw age old triangle shaped pages in Mark’s hand.

  “What are they?” he asked.

  “I don’t know,” Mark said, and held out a page for Lane to see.

  Lane looked down at the triangle piece of paper. The ink was all but faded, but the images and symbols were still there defying the passing of time. Lane grabbed one of the pages and held it close. The images began to swirl in front of his eyes. The letters – if they were indeed letters – seemed to emit a soft sickly glow of their own. He heard the ruffling of old paper as Mark pilfered through the remaining ones he held. Lane shoved the paper he held back at Mark wanting nothing to do with it.

  “Here, I found something I can read on one of them,” Mark said. His voice rose with surprise and astonishment that he actually found something he could read.

  Lane answered half looking at Mark and the floor, “What?”

  “There is something written at the top. I can’t pronounce it, but it’s in English characters. It’s something like ‘Lexur..iga.serr..roth….’ then under it, it says ‘He Who Devours All in the Dark’.”

  Lane sat there and realized he was shaking. The words burned into his mind and terrified him. His right hand was throbbing. Lane looked down at his hand and saw that it had doubled in size.

  “Man, we need to get out of here; you should see my fucking hand. It’s swelling. That’s not good, Mark.”

  Mark replied in a tone as calm as a puddle of undisturbed water, “It’ll be ok. We don’t have much more to see.” Lane saw all he wanted to see. He knew nightmares would haunt him for days, maybe even years, after this little experiment. He wanted to leave and never come back to this nightmare; this tower of darkness. Maybe Mark’s grandpa’s story was true. He cursed out loud at himself for even thinking such a thing while he stood there in the low lit landing; in the tower.

  Stillness settled over the room then. They both felt it as the light breeze died. Lane’s heart pounded in his ears like a celebration parades’ drum line. Lane almost burst back down the stairs. His flesh prickled and his hairs felt like they would jump out of his skin. He was about to, but Mark’s voice held him still. It was full with the excitement of discovery, “Come on, let’s go to the top and see what else we can find.” Lane watched Mark race up the obsidian colored stairs. His fear was consuming him, he didn’t want to be left alone in the dark. Reluctantly he followed Mark.

  The stairs went on forever to Lane. Each step was a labor. He figured the bite’s poison was finally taking its toll and coursing through his bloodstream doing untold amounts of damage to his flesh and, more horridly, his organs. He was sweating now. Tiny beads rose on his temples and ran like streams down his face and into his eyes and mouth. The salty liquid mixed with the fetid odor made him gag as he climbed.

  Then they were at the top or what they hoped was the top. Each bent over in labored breaths, both gagging from the odor which had doubled from down below and became overwhelming.

  Lane bent over with his hands on his knees and watched Mark who was still coughing and gagging search the room. His tiny light seemed far away as it bounced to and fro darting one way then another. Mark was only a shadowy silhouette from the flame to him now. Had the room gotten bigger? Lane looked up and saw no ceiling only a gulf of blackness that didn’t have an end. He heard Mark mumbling and he tried to find his friend. His light seemed even further away now. It was only a spec in the blackness, but his voice was still somewhat near. Where are the windows? We are surely at the top, Lane thought. But he could see no windows, only darkness. Lane thought it was the poison working its deadly spell on him. He figured a visit to the emergency room was soon to follow as he looked down at his hand and saw it had turned a sickish purple color and grown in size again. If only we would leave this accursed tower, he thought. But none of that would happen. The end was all too near.

  A roar booming with hate, malice, and everything evil filled the tower above them. Lane dropped his lighter at the suddenness of it and yelled, “Damn it!”

  He shook uncontrollably as he looked for Mark. What could make that sound, Lane thought as his mind began deducing the possibilities. Lane found Mark quickly running towards him, but he seemed far away. His tiny light bobbed back and forth and Lane thought he was safe. His friend would be near him and together they could face whatever thing was roaring. He was going to be ok. Safe. Then Mark’s light went out. Lane’s hope vanished. They were alone now and the darkness bathed them in its nothingness. He heard Mark’s voice.

  “Damn, I dropped my lighter.” Lane could hear Mark fumbling around on the floor searching for it. There was no dust here on the landing. The floor was immaculate. Lane did the same, but his hand found no purchase while searching the cold damp floor in a wild panic.

  The beating sound of huge leathery wings filled their ears. A monstrosity was with them in the dark. The thing screamed this time and Lane thought he would go mad. The darkness was all around them and the odor intensified again. The rippling of air as it passed over huge misshapen wings could be heard above them. Lane looked up and saw nothing. Mark’s voice was like the sound of hope as it came to Lane’s ears. Together they might have a chance.

  “I found it, I found it!”

  Lane watched in the blackness as a spark lit the dark; another spark and then one more. Mark was having trouble with his lighter and Lane cursed aloud telling him that it better have fuel inside it.

  Finally there was light as the spark hit fuel combusting together to give them just a ray of hope, but only for a second. That was all that it took to send Lane into the uncharted regions of insanity. He looked over to Mark and saw only a glimpse of the thing, but that was enough. Lane saw hovering in front of Mark a thousand eyes on a misshapen scaly head and a maw with the cruelest of shapes. The rest of its body was lost in the shadows. Its jaws were spread wide and dwarfed Mark in the gloom. Then there was blackness and a hard sounding thud followed by Mark’s scream as he fell down below into a sea of black.

  Lane screamed. It was the only thing his mind would allow him to do; the only thing he could think of to do. The thing screamed back at him, its voice inhuman and monstrous. He could feel those thousand eyes upon him eyeing him and mocking him as a mortal being. Lane thought his ears would explode. He backed up until he was on the tip of the landing and felt warm liquid fill his ears then run down his neck. He would die from falling if he went over, down into the blackness to a cruel and painful death. Lane crouched then; his swollen hand hit the floor and shot nerve ripping pain up his arm and through his shoulder. The sound of huge wings beating in the dark blocked out all else as the thing hovered before him and made him swim with nausea from the odor it emitted.

  He stood and turned to run, but he was too late. A misshapen claw or appendage hit him square in his chest and sent him flying off the ground and then over the landing down to the dist
ant floor below. It was covered with slim and the gelatinous residue it left on him burned his skin as he fell. He could hear the air ripping over its huge wings as it fell with him. It was chasing him to the bottom. Lane thought it would catch him before he hit and devour him.

  The thud and snapping of bone rang in Lane’s ears followed by a short burst of high pitched ringing. He knew he hit bottom and broke on impact. He would die here in the dark; in the brown tower. He could not feel or see anything for a few moments, but his hearing was crystal clear. Darkness engulfed him. He heard the heavy dragging of the thing’s weight on the floor as it landed and then moved its misshapen girth in the dark. A wet sound came to Lane’s ears and then the snapping of its maw as it crunched bone and flesh. It told Lane that Mark was no more.

  One of its wings rubbed across Lane’s face and he wondered how it could fit in such a tiny place. Lane could smell the slime that was eating away at his face. Then the winged creature moved turning to face him; turning to eat him. His vision came back to him, but it wasn’t clear like his hearing.

  Stretched thin clouds moved in the wind outside and tiny rays of moonlight shone through the door they entered. Lane could see the floor and his broken body before him. He was bent at an odd angle. His back broken and his body twisted. The realization was dizzying. He looked up and saw those thousand eyes atop that misshapen head and wanted to scream, but no sound would come just yet. Insanity clawed at the edges of his mind.

  Lane felt it then, a cold, wet, and strong rope like thing which could only have been the creature’s tongue ran up his body and then wrapped around his broken form. It dragged him across the floor to its gapping cruel shaped maw.

  Lane McKenzie screamed then in the darkness. Blood flew from his mouth from ruptured organs. All his fears of the dark became real. ‘He Who Devours All in the Darkness’ ate him whole in the cold January winter night.