Keyport Cthulhu

by Armand Rosamilia

  Keyport Cthulhu

  Expanded Edition

  Armand Rosamilia

  Katelynn Rosamilia

  Chuck Buda

  All stories copyright 2017 their respective authors

  Edited by Jenny Adams

  All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form, including electronic format, except for purposes of review

  Rymfire Books

  Cover © 2017 by Jeffrey Kosh

  http://jeffreykosh.blogspot.com/

  http://armandrosamilia.com

  armandrosamilia@gmail.com

  Special Thanks to Katelynn Rosamilia, for the typing help and the idea that Unicorns and Cthulhu could live in perfect harmony

  Chuck Buda, a super fan who became a super part of this work

  Introduction

  By Chuck Buda

  Exposure to the works of H.P. Lovecraft is not a prerequisite in order to enjoy Keyport Cthulhu. The book stands on its own, providing tales of darkness and dread. However, having read Lovecraft as a young man, I appreciated the painstaking work Armand Rosamilia crafted into this piece of art.

  Keyport Cthulhu is an homage, not only to Lovecraft, but to the small fishing village of Keyport, New Jersey. The parallels are striking. Ancient traditions born of seafaring towns. Dankly worn piers and narrow streets. Somber feelings of isolation juxtaposed with the endless waters of escape. Atmospheric palls thick enough to choke on. And of course, eerie prose encapsulated in a nightmarish tome.

  Armand Rosamilia’s ability to modernize Lovecraft’s style provides accessibility to the Cthulhu mythos. The master’s imagination is harnessed, preserving the elements while carving a new path. And still, the course is horrific. Armand brings us the elder gods via universal fears. The human psyche has never been so exposed.

  When I discovered Keyport Cthulhu for myself, I devoured it several times. I corresponded with Mr. Rosamilia, pleading for a sequel. I begged him to consider revisiting the mythos. Proudly, I convinced the author to re-release this great work with a fresh set of eyes. And now, I humbly present you with the new edition, including such classics as “Ancient,” “Cabal,” “Rats in the Cellars” and of course, “Cthulhunicorn” co-written with his daughter, Katelynn. The author has added a new tale, “Lockbox,” as a bonus to the reader (but more than likely as a way to get rid of me for pestering him), Armand Rosamilia has included two of my own stories set in his personal mythos.

  Sit back, dim the lights and immerse yourself in the world of Keyport Cthulhu as Armand Rosamilia takes you on a journey through the depths of madness.

  Will you be strong enough to make it back?

  -Chuck Buda, Rosamilia & Lovecraft Adept

  Introduction… Page 5

  Ancient… Page 9

  Barren… Page 31

  Cabal… Page 65

  Dagon… Page 91

  Evil… Page 123

  Rats In The Cellars… Page 163

  Cthulhunicorn… Page 189

  The Terrible Old Man of Keyport… Page 193

  Lockbox… Page 215

  Dark Waters of Sin… Page 239

  Author Notes… Page 253

  A NCIENT

  "This entire town smells like fish," Nicole whispered to her husband as they sat in their car and waited for the realtor to arrive.

  "You'll get used to it. Trust me." Harrison tapped on the BMW's steering wheel to the song in his head. "I haven't been here in years."

  "It smells. It smells bad," she reiterated. "You promised me a vacation down the Jersey shore."

  Harrison pointed at the bay. "There's a patch of beach right there."

  Nicole squinted dramatically. "Where? Between the fish guts, the giant freaking seagulls and the strange fishermen on their hundred year old blocks of wood, I don't see anything that could be called sand."

  "Trust me, you'll love it here."

  "Love it here?" Nicole crossed her arms. "I don't think so. This was supposed to be a drive down from Boston to see and sell your grandfather's house. That was it."

  "I promised you Snookie and a porkroll, egg and cheese sandwich, as well."

  "That sounds gross, and so is Snookie. This is crap."

  Harrison loved that she never used profanity. She would use heck or freaking or darn whenever she broke a nail or stubbed a toe. He was born in New Jersey (right down Route 36 in nearby Belford) and cursed like a fucking sailor. "I grew up here."

  Nicole went back into her dramatics, while trying to stifle a grin. She threw her arms up, striking the car roof and the closed window. "You grew up in this swamp?"

  "The swamps of Jersey, like the Boss sang about."

  "Who's boss?"

  Harrison laughed. He was about to explain the finer points of Bruce Springsteen and Bon Jovi music to this New England gal when a car horn honked next to her and an older woman, wearing too much makeup and a bright red smile, waved and pulled away.

  "That must be the realtor slash clown of Keyport," Harrison said and started the car.

  "You're horrible. That's not nice. She's someone's mother or daughter."

  Nicole was always seeing the good in people, despite the fact that most of them were shit, in Harrison's mind. He'd been living in Fall River for the past ten years but couldn't shake the 'Jersey' out of him, and didn't ever want to. New Englanders made fun of his 'hey you's guys' and ending too many too-true comments with 'just sayin' and his other accents, but he could rib the Bahstahn accent as well. Pahk the Cah.

  They caught up to the realtor on 1st Street and turned left onto Walnut. As they got back to the bay, they followed her right onto a dirt road, running parallel to the water. Stunted trees rose up on both sides, scratching the top of the car as they passed. Most of the trees to the east, near the water, were leaning precariously as if reaching for the salt water, the roots going to the waterline itself.

  "Crazy trees," Nicole said and pointed at them. "This place is creepy."

  Harrison tried to think of something funny to say but failed when they veered around a tree stump next to the road that looked like a troll or a monster. She was right; it was creepy.

  The dust kicked up by the realtor's car obscured their view more than a few feet ahead of them, but when she suddenly turned to the right and stopped, Harrison hit his breaks and they waited for the dust to settle.

  "1313 Mockingbird Lane," Harrison said with a laugh. "It's like a movie set, right?"

  "I'm not getting out." Nicole crossed her arms.

  * * * * *

  Harrison stood on the cobblestone pathway leading to his late grandfather's house. The lawn - if you could even call it that - was just patches of brown weeds, ropy vines hugging the ground, and what looked to be mole or gopher mounds. The trees thinned out and he had a clear view of the bay to his left, although, he thought it would take awhile to actually walk to the slight beach if he wanted to.

  He glanced back and waved at Nicole, still sitting in the car, but she looked away. He'd need to make this up to her with a great dinner and maybe a romantic stroll on the waterfront tonight. A few drinks wouldn't hurt, either.

  The realtor, wearing a gaudy, brightly colored dress, smiled as she held the keys and stood on the top step. Her makeup threatened to slide off her face and Harrison had the funny vision of it doing so and taking her eyes, nose and lips with it.

  "When was the last time you visited?" she asked.

  Harrison shook his head as he looked over the outside of the house, weathered and gray, the wooden siding looking ancient. It was a huge house, two stories, with a gabled gray roof and drab accoutrements. It looked as if it had been washed of all real color, like a bla
ck and white picture. He joined her out of the direct sunlight and returned her fake smile. "I've never been here."

  She looked surprised. "I thought you were born here?"

  "Yeah, I'm a Jersey boy."

  Now she looked agitated. "No, you misunderstand. On the phone, I thought you said you were born in Keyport."

  "I was born in Red Bank and grew up in Belford."

  She palmed the keys and Harrison watched the move, wondering if she was going to pocket them and leave. This is my fucking house now, bitch, he wanted to yell at her. He had no idea what he'd said wrong or if any of it was even her business.

  "My mother was born here but left home at sixteen. To be honest, I don't think she ever spoke with her father after that. He creeped her out." Like the trees on the property, he suddenly thought.

  Her smile returned and she jingled the keys. "I know of several Keyport residents who'd love to make this a quick sale."

  "What do you mean?"

  "Well, I know you live in New England and the only reason you got the property is because you're the only family Jeb Marsh had left." The realtor glanced at Nicole, still sitting in the car. "I don't mean to pry, but it's obvious your pretty little wife isn't too happy to be down here. I can take care of all the paperwork."

  Harrison put his hand out and she handed him the keys. "I'm thinking of staying for awhile. I can do my work from the house. With today's business all being done online and through e-mails, I can work from anywhere. Does the house have an office set up?"

  The realtor shrugged. "I've never been inside."

  Harrison suddenly had a thought. "When I got the call originally, it was from a Mister Smoltz. Why isn't he meeting me here to give the keys?"

  She smiled. "Mister Smoltz was your grandfather's lawyer and did all the paperwork, like his will, and got all of his finances, such as they are, in order."

  "And?"

  "I'm Sylvia. Sylvia Smoltz." She laughed, her chins jiggling. "My, how rude of me! I never properly introduced myself. I do most, if not all, of the real estate deals in Keyport." She leaned in closer to him. "Not that there are many. Most of the town is family, in one way or another, and a death usually means the property is simply handed down to a son or daughter or grandchild." She stopped smiling. "Of course, ninety-nine percent of the time the family member still lives in town or was born here. Where's your mother, anyway?"

  Harrison was sweating in the heat and was done with the small talk and this annoying woman. He dropped his own smile and simply (but as nice as he could manage) took the keys from her chubby hand. "I'll be in touch with you if I decide to sell the place."

  She went to say something but he turned his back to her, unlocked the front door and pushed it open. Harrison turned to make sure she left but she was almost running down the steps and down the path.

  Nicole glanced at him irritably. When he gave her a little wave, she looked away. "This is going to be a fun night," he murmured.

  He took a tentative step inside but didn't fully enter. His eyes began adjusting to the gloom and he marveled at the amount of dust swirling in the air.

  Harrison's grandfather had only been dead ten days. Mister Smoltz had taken care of the burial and the paperwork, notifying Harrison only two days ago. Harrison would need to contact the lawyer again and get the location of his grandfather's gravesite.

  The windows, in the front room, were covered in heavy curtains and the furniture draped in cloths. Harrison finally walked in and realized he'd been holding his breath.

  The house had a strange smell to it, as if bleach had been dumped in the next room, but Harrison doubted anyone had cleaned in years. There was an underlying smell of… something else. Surprisingly, there were no pictures on the walls. If he didn’t know better, he'd think no one had lived in the house for years.

  Harrison moved into the living room, but tried not to disturb anything. It was like stepping back through time. He wandered down the hall into what served as a kitchen, although, the appliances hadn't been updated in the last fifty years.

  Again, it was like a museum. There was dust on the kitchen table and on the counters. Nothing was out of place and the single window over the sink was covered with a gaudy black fabric.

  "How is it possible that he's only been dead a few days?"

  Harrison searched the rest of the bottom floor but the rooms were equally vacant and dusty. Half way up the steps, he pulled back a thick curtain, expecting to find a window, so he could check on Nicole.

  The painting forced him to move back with such suddenness, he nearly fell over the side of the old wooden railing. It depicted a grizzly scene, as if your worst nightmare had been splattered on canvas. Despite his mind screaming to look away, he could not avert his eyes.

  The myriad of colors, some of which he could not even name, seemed to pulse. Creatures, bent in some horrific struggle, moved from the corner of his eyes. When he looked directly at them, they were simply a jumble of obscene color.

  Harrison felt his heart racing. He needed to get up the stairs, but his body was fighting him. He thought again of Nicole waiting for him in the car, and that seemed to give him strength. He literally had to put his hand over his eyes to break the spell.

  At the top of the stairs, he realized he been holding his breath.

  He leaned against the wall and waited for his heart beat to slow. The second level contained five closed doors. Again, no pictures adorned the hallway walls. He opened the closest door and wasn’t surprised to find it the same. He walked across the dusty floor, put a trembling hand on the black fabric covering what he hoped was a window, and closed his eyes.

  He yanked the drape down and felt sunlight on his face. Looking outside, he saw that Nicole was no longer in the car. At the same moment, he heard the front door slam closed.

  "Honey, I'm up here." Harrison said, going to the landing and looking down but he didn’t see her. "Nicole?"

  Something heavy fell in the far room down the hall. Harrison hesitated. Should he go downstairs and look for Nicole, who should be fuming by now, or investigate the noise down the hall?

  Another crash sounded and Harrison ran to the door and tried to open it. It was locked and made of solid wood, old and ancient, but the lock itself looked brand new. What was also odd was the large padlock at the top of the door.

  Harrison pulled the keys from his pocket but none of them fit in the padlock. The newest looking key unlocked the door itself, so he turned the knob and pushed it no more than a quarter inch before the padlock held.

  Something slammed against the other side of the door with such force that Harrison fell backwards and the floor actually shuddered.

  That’s when he heard Nicole scream from below.

  * * * * *

  She stood on top of one of the kitchen chairs, tears streaming down her face.

  "Oh my god, what happened?" Harrison stopped in the door way when he saw Nicole.

  Nicole sobbed and pointed at the sink. "There's a giant rat."

  Harrison couldn’t help but laugh, relieved at the explainable problem. When Nicole got down off the chair and gave him the finger, he moved to hug her. She pushed him away.

  "I'm just messing with you," Harrison said as he tried to hug his wife again. She resisted. "Why are you such a jerk? You know rats freak me out."

  "It was probably a field mouse. I'm sure this ancient house is a breeding ground for them."

  Nicole pushed past him and he followed her out the front door, managing to stop her on the porch. "I'll get an exterminator in the morning. I think we have a bigger problem upstairs."

  "What do you mean?"

  "Something big is pissed off and living in one of the bedrooms. It's either a raccoon or a huge squirrel." Harrison grinned. "Maybe it was a unicorn."

  "Maybe you’re an idiot."

  Harrison shrugged. "I'm starving. Let's go into town and find an early dinner and some beer."

  * * * * *

  "This is a nice place," Har
rison said and looked around the small bar. It was dark and they sat at the only table that wasn’t occupied, although, most of the room was taken up by the bar area and the pool tables and dart throwing area.

  Nicole frowned. She glanced around the bar before looking back at her husband. "Do I have something on my face?"

  "No." Harrison was confused.

  Nicole leaned closer to Harrison. "Then why the heck is everyone staring at us?"

  Harrison met the gaze of several men at the bar, expecting them to look away.

  Instead, they continued to stare. The room was quiet, all eyes on the couple.

  "Let's just get out of here." Nicole stood and moved to the door and Harrison almost had to run to keep up.

  "Ready to order?" It was the bartender asking, standing with his arms folded and a smirk on his face. He didn't look too friendly, weathered like everyone else they'd met in Keyport in their short stay so far. Harrison felt like he was in a foreign country.

  Nicole had stopped in the doorway. Harrison took his wife gently by the arm and took her outside, glad when the door closed. He was sure he heard laughter inside.

  "Let's just get in the car and drive home," Nicole said.

  Harrison took his wife's hands in his. He knew this hadn’t turned out how he'd planned. I guess I fooled myself into thinking my New England born and bred wife would fall in love with the area I grew up in. Unfortunately, this isn’t where I grew up, he thought, as they stood on the corner of Broad Street and Main.

  "I say we go to the realtors first thing in the morning, list that creepy house and get out of this creepy town. With the money you'll make off of it, we can buy our own house near Boston. I have cousins in Fall River." Nicole checked her watch. "If you let me drive, we can be home before midnight."