He has also been writing poetry and fiction for many years and had a number of poems and stories successfully published in that time. He has also written quite a few books for the Roleplaying and Miniature Wargame industry. Most recently he has successfully sold stories to the newly relaunched Argosy, the children’s science magazine Ask Me Ask You, and poetry to Love Notes by Vagabondage Press, as well as Canadian Expressions, based near his home in Langley, BC Canada.
When not working, writing or playing with his 11-year-old daughter he works on his Wargame armies and occasionally finds time to field them in battle.
He lives in Langley BC Canada likes cats but has none.
TRUTH BEHIND THE LIES
ESSEL PRATT
Afore winter’s grasp choked out autumn’s last brittle breaths, crisp air pirouetted upon still warm winds within the radiantly lit metropolis. Fallen leaves huddle in the corners that flank doorways to shops and office space along the normally busy strip; illuminated by fluorescent bulbs as the full moon hangs with a shy demeanor behind the thick veil of clouds. The night was calm, the aura peaceful, yet foreboding electric sensations hid within the air, creating unwarranted tension in the heads of everyone still awake at the devil’s hour.
Activity inside the 24-hour diner dismissed the concept of rest under the moon’s caress, as third shift construction crews feasted upon charred burgers and greasy fries alongside zombie-esque insomniacs, catching up on the daily papers before the day crews have a chance to read through. An occasional drunkard sobering with endless cups of black coffee wandered in from time to time, after the corner pub closed for the night; however, the regular crews were accounted for and served by name.
Hunched in the back corner booth, the opposite end from the bathroom traffic, a lanky man of middle aged features glared into an aged book, its pages yellowed and brittle; dust erupting into the air with each turn of the page. His focus was un-wavered from the book; seemingly unaware of the presence of others in the room as he concentrated intently on the illegible wording and sketches adorning the pages.
The cheerful waitress, always ready to welcome guests with her best smile and friendly banter, shied away from delivering a freshly brewed cup of coffee to the stranger. His presence caused her undue stress, summoning goose bumps upon her well-aged arms. Caffeinated pot in hand, her stroll began at the bathroom end of the room, taking her time to converse with each table, hoping to extend her journey just a little longer before arriving to the stranger’s table; her gaze never quite straying from his direction.
Although her path was short, it seemed to take forever to arrive at his side. She placed a clean mug on the edge of the table, alongside the silverware wrapped in a paper napkin. As she extended her arm to pour the coffee, with a feigned smile upon her face, the man covered the cup with his hand, not bothering to look up from his reading.
“Not a coffee drinker,” she said, trying her best to hide the nervous tension within her muscles behind a chipper demeanor.
The man did not avert his gaze, “No liquids near the book.”
“Okay then,” she replied. “What can I get you then? Have to order if you want to linger, it’s the policy.”
“I’m not hungry,” he said, his voice direct and void of emotion.
“Sorry, Hun,” she said. “No food or coffee, and you’ll have to leave. They’re the boss’s rules, not mine.”
The man shook his head, annoyed that she was still standing at his side, “Fine, just some toast. Dry toast, that is all.”
The waitress did not respond to his request, choosing to walk away and announce his order the cook. She was just glad to be away from him as she stood next to the grill, hoping it would relieve her of the chills she experienced while standing at his side.
“What’s up with you,” asked Todd, the bus boy.
“Can you take that man his toast?” she asked. “He gives me the creeps and I just don’t want to be near him.”
“Don’t worry about it,” said Todd. “I have your back, Carolyn.”
Todd grabbed the toast from atop the counter and casually strolled toward the strange man’s table. He whistled a concocted tune to signal his approach, unnoticed by the man as he approached.
“Here’s your toast, sir,” said Todd, as he dropped the plate onto the table, sending crumbs tumbling off of the dish.
“Do you mind,” said the man, annoyed. “This is a very old and irreplaceable book. I’d rather it not be destroyed by your lack of respect for ancient history.”
The man averted his gaze from the book as he spoke, hoping Todd would realize it was a hint to leave the vicinity.
“I’m sorry, sir,” replied Todd. “I didn’t mean to upset you. However, I will say that I have the utmost respect for all things historical. I’m finishing my degree in history, straight A’s mind you, and hope to work in the local museum when I am finished. The older and more obscure, the more interested I am.”
The man furrowed his brow and contemplated debating Todd’s lack of knowledge on history beyond the lies he was fed via the textbooks that guided his collegiate path. However, he decided, instead, to enlighten him in what he was missing out on within the hallowed halls of academia.
“Todd,” he said, straining to read the faded nametag upon his lapel. “Have you ever heard of the Melkal Demban: Khompf de Ghat? Before you answer, I’m going to assume it is a no, simply because only a select handful of humans have ever heard the name, let along gaze upon its pages. Even if you have heard of it, chances are you had no idea of its significance upon the existence of life itself. The Elder Gods don’t just go around letting anyone absorb the knowledge within.”
Todd was becoming upset at the man’s offensive attitude,” Sir, I have not heard of such a book, or your Elder Gods, but rest assured if I did, I would prefer to read about historical fact rather than poison my mind with fiction.”
The man glared at Todd, “Fiction is what is taught by the academic conglomerate to poison the world into believing chaos is controlled. This ancient book has documented the real history, has since the beginning of it all. I don’t think you could handle such damnation and purity within your corrupted mind. Many have tried; few have lived beyond the experience. None have successfully translated it into modern language for all to explore. One came close, penning the words of your Holy Bible, creating a fictitious account of a single aspect of the whole. Quite insulting, really.”
“Sir, I don’t know what you are talking about, but I assure you that the more eclectic the historical account, the more my interest is peaked. However, what you speak of seems like a Hollywood production. Enjoy your toast, I’ll be back to check on you in a bit.”
Todd hustled back to the counter, mouthing the words ‘you owe me’ to Carolyn. She smiled and walked into the back room to deliver an order to Brice, the cook. Todd was right on her heels.
“Come on,” he said. “That man is not only an asshole, he is a creepy asshole.”
“Yep” said Carolyn. “And now he is your creepy asshole. Feel free to keep the tip, if he leaves one.”
“Fat chance of that,” said Todd.
“While the two of you are talking shit,” said Brice, as he placed a dish of food onto the serving window, “your creepy ass man just left, leaving his book on the table. I suggest one of you take it out to him so its bad ju-ju doesn’t linger in here.”
“He didn’t even pay for his toast,” said Carolyn.
“Forget the toast,” said Todd. “I’ll get the book and run it out to him, so he doesn’t come back in and hang out longer.”
***
Todd grabbed the book from atop the table. Its leather bound cover was unpleasant to the touch; it’s brittle hide still elastic enough to stretch upon his tight grasp. His imagination ran rampant as thoughts of human flesh invaded the recesses of his mind and images of the person’s last moments of his or her life screamed within his head. The only thought he could focus on was finding the man and letting go of th
e book, to get it as far away from him as possible.
The air outside embraced his exposed skin, chilling the sweat that clung tightly to his flesh. He shivered as the aluminum framed glass door slammed shut behind him, his head scanning the street for the man’s path of escape. To his left, he caught a brief glimpse of the man’s cotton trench coat disappearing into the alleyway that flanked the side of the diner and took chase after him.
Rounding the corner with the speed of a sprinter, Todd nearly slipped in a puddle that pooled where a grouping of bricks long withered away under the weight of the massive delivery trucks that squeezed their way into the aged corridor. Barely maintaining his balance, he gathered himself and scanned the dark alley.
Ahead, just behind the diner’s dumpster, movement caught his eye. “Got ya,” he said under his breath as he proceeded forward with the caution of a tiger on the hunt. The man behind the dumpster was hidden out of sight as Todd rounded the receptacle, keeping a safe distance in case the man was awaiting his approach with thoughts of ambush in his mind. The darkness revealed little in the way of detail, mystifying his actions.
“What the fuck,” Todd’s words trailed off as the moon escaped the cloud’s hold for a brief couple of seconds.
Although not the man from the diner, the reveal was no less disturbing. Standing, with his pants around his ankle, a miscreant vagabond thrust his fully erect manhood into the anal cavity of a decomposing mutt that lay lifeless in the alley for an entire week. Todd was disgusted by the appearance of intense gratification upon the man’s face as he backed away. The vagabond seemed oblivious to his presence as he grunted and thrust, sweat drenching his grimy hair and dripping down his face.
“Jesus Christ,” said Todd aloud.
The bum stopped dead still at Todd’s words. Still inside the dog, the man turned his head with the precision of an automaton, the look of pleasure still plastered upon his face.
“Your God is false, the others will attest. The man you seek has run ahead; 42 is the address you seek,” the man’s voice was hollow and deep.
As the miscreant started thrusting again, Todd backed away, further down the darkened alley toward the old insurance agency’s back door.
“What the fuck is going on here tonight,” he said aloud as he approached the door near the dead end of the alley.
Faded and chipped, the once bright red number 42 still lingered on the thin steel door. Clutching the book tightly in his left hand, Todd ran his right index finger over the numbers, feeling the old paint scrape against his skin. Before reaching down to turn the knob, he glanced back at the vagabond. He was still thrusting furiously and began screaming as he seemingly started to reach orgasm. Not wanting to know what would happen next, Todd grasped the rusted knob and twisted it counterclockwise.
The cold metal turned much easier than expected as the door broke free from its latch and swung outward toward him. Darkness escaped from inside, seemingly blocking out any light that remained in the alleyway. Without giving it any thought, he entered the room, shutting the door behind him.
Once inside, the rest of the world faded from existence. The darkness and silence of the building mingled around him, blocking out all potential interactions with the world he knew to exist in substance, but started to question it reality as a whole. He was overcome with the nothingness that surrounded him, unsure what to do. He turned to where the door was, stretching out his arms to feel comfort that it still existed, but the nothingness held him back from that old reality. He turned again, One Hundred and eighty degrees, and walked in what he felt was a straight path, his hands still outstretched and his pace lazy in its progression.
Counting his steps, thirty paces in, his right foot knocked over something heavy. He looked toward the floor and noticed a figure of sorts, dimly glowing green, or maybe it was the haze that surrounded it that illuminated, he was unsure. The book in his hand seemed to vibrate with the presence of the glow. He felt the need to pick the object up, the thought became obsessive in his mind, so he abided.
The stone statuette was quite heavy for its size. It was cold to the touch, yet sent bellowing warmth through his bones, traveling from his right hand, through his body, terminating where his left fingers met the fleshy leather of the book.The sensation was more pleasurable than a unison orgasmic embrace of a pair of young lovers. It was revitalizing; it was the feeling of birth and death, all at once. It was instantly addictive.
Ahead, the emerald mist crept upon a stone wall, revealing strange glyphs, seemingly more ancient than those the Egyptians carved millennia prior. They were weathered and chipped, archaic and simple, full of mystical beauty. Todd felt them call to him; he walked forward at their beckon.
The more steps he took, th e further the wall extended from his reach. Adamant to reach his goal, he refused to admit defeat. He did not run, instead kept a steady pace, oblivious to the world he left outside.
Todd’s eyes focused on a single symbol, similar to a cross, but with wriggling tentacles stretching out from the horizontal bar. His gaze affixed, he found the wall drawing near, even as his feet stopped moving. In a trance, he awaited its arrival until the moist stone met the tip of his nose, the glyph at an even level with his eyes. He reached up, with both hands, the book in one and the statuette in the other, and touched the strange symbol. Instantly, his body erupted into flames, sending hellish heat through every atom within, burning away sin and worship that congregated within his DNA. Seconds later, it subsided, and he was whole again. Innocent.
Whispers murmured in his mind, echoing around him, yelling deep into his soul. Like an ancient lullaby, he felt calmed by the chant, as though sleepwalking in a dream state. He barely noticed the wall open in front of him; it was silent.
The indecipherable chants began to coalesce into a language he could understand. “Venture forward, seek the Old One, he will grant passage.” Todd was unaware what was meant by the words, but he stepped forward into the darkness beyond the wall; a leap of faith into the arms of nothingness.
***
Light was absent, yet darkness’s illumination was brighter than the sun in the heavens. It was cold, but he did not shiver with chills. The winds blew violently, but did not knock him from his feet. He followed the path before him, a weight upon his shoulders held him to the ground, although he felt he could float if he wished. He was at peace.
In the shadows that flanked either side, rambunctious creatures cat-called to him. Their language, not his own, displayed threatening mockery within their prevalent screams as he walked forward. He refused to look directly at them, noting their spider-like appendages and tentacles lashing as their laser red eyes pierced the darkness. Terror was absent from his heart, yet he feared straying from the path; unwilling to discover the torture he would endure.
Todd walked onward, careful to remain on the path, even as it ebbed and flowed in width. He remained out of reach of his stalkers, even with their numbers seemingly infinite. Ahead, a stoic temple rose from the ground, stretching high into the sky, piercing both heaven and hell, if they existed within the strange world. Like the gasses collecting on an asphalt road’s surface under the summer’s heat, the exterior seemed to flow like plant life under the ocean. The temple dance was mesmerizing.
Like the wall from earlier, the temple never seemed any closer with each step. He tried to keep his focus, yet it did not work. In his mind, persistence was the vehicle to reaching its steps. He just knew it.
The path took a sharp curve to his right. He barely noticed its approach. At the turn, a large and ominous figure stood; its limbs and hair like octopus tentacles outstretching his arrival, its deep throaty voice sounding like the hum of a humpback whale. He avoided the creature as he turned, never letting his gaze move away from its splendid presence.
A couple steps past the turn, his head still focused on the creature, his vision blurring with oncoming blindness, he ran his body into something solid, sending him tumbling to the ground. His grasp upon the
book and statuette held fast as his body slammed against the soft soil-like substance on the ground. His vision returned almost immediately, the blindness faded.
“You must be careful here,” said the man from the diner, grasping Todd’s arm to help him to his feet.
“You,” was all Todd could muster to say, his word echoing loudly through the air. The creatures in his peripheral congregated at his side, piling upon one another, each stretching out their arms and tentacles in a fury to grasp him.
“Do not speak with words, do so with your mind,” said the man. “Better yet, do not speak at all. Just listen.”
Todd remained still, anxious to hear what he would say.
“Ahead is the lair of the Old One, the Old One, none other. Walk. Walk forever; let him be your guide. He will accept you, or he will destroy you. Accept his choice. He will reveal the true history, the truth behind the lies. He will, as he has forever. Do not look back, only accept his teachings.”
Todd looked at the book and statuette in his hands.
“Leave the relic at his alter, your gift of sin and worship to him, keep the book. I have learned all I need to know, I have ascended within the ranks. You have much to discover. With knowledge comes everlasting life, possibly accompanied by insanity or strength. That is up to you. Now go.”
Todd blinked and the man was gone. His cognition restored, he was determined to follow the path with renewed focus. His hurried steps took him immediately around another curve in the path, right to the steps of the Old One’s temple. Its brilliance was stunning. Marble columns extended toward the heavens and precious metals framed the brilliant diamond windows within. He felt unworthy of standing in its presence. The creatures from his peripheral gathered at its gates, none stepping inside. Todd noticed their fear and rushed inside, felling safe from their threatening stares.
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