A Mythos Grimmly

by Morgan Griffith

  There wasn’t. Working together and using the Clever Rabbit’s walking stick as a lever, the friends managed to pull the trapdoor open, revealing a deep, dark shaft in which a cold, damp mist lazily swirled. Stone steps started at the lip of the shaft, steeply descending into darkness.

  The Curious Tiger began bouncing in place. “I-”

  “I propose,” the Wise Owl interrupted, “an expedition through the trapdoor. We are obligated to investigate this phenomenon in the name of scientific exploration. Nay, we are compelled, for fate itself has called upon us-,” (the Gentle Pig poked the Little Yellow Bear who struggled not to grin) “-to act as pioneers. It is our duty as thinking creatures to expand the furthest boundaries of knowledge when the opportunity presents itself. For all we know, we stand at the very threshold of an entire new reality. Dare we step across?” He glared at the circle of faces, daring them not to be impressed.

  “Hmm,” said the Clever Rabbit.

  The Curious Tiger grinned. “We don’t step. We leap!”

  “Capital,” said the Wise Owl. “Who’s with us? Who else wishes their name to be recorded in the annals of history?”

  No one spoke. The Little Yellow Bear felt the Curious Tiger’s expectant gaze tugging at him, and so he focused on the Gentle Pig with all his might. His small friend looked up and slowly shook his head.

  The Wise Owl shrugged. “Well, then. More glory for us. No time like the present.” He regarded the shaft for a moment. “On further consideration, I think only a bit of preliminary scouting is warranted. A true expedition will require more planning.”

  The Little Yellow Bear thought he detected an uncharacteristic hint of concern on the Curious Tiger’s face, followed by a barely audible sigh of relief in response to the Wise Owl’s reassessment of the situation. “In that case, we’ll wait for you here.”

  “Excellent. We shouldn’t be gone more than a half-hour, an hour at the most. Come along, friend tiger.”

  As he started down the steps, the Curious Tiger looked at the Little Yellow Bear who looked away once more. Then they were gone, gobbled up by the molasses-thick darkness.

  A half-hour became an hour, which then became two. The sun crawled toward the horizon, a relentless gauge of the dwindling daylight. That, combined with the strangeness of the day and thoughts of the long walk home, was steadily transforming the general mood from anxiousness to apprehension.

  “How long should we wait?” the Clever Rabbit finally asked.

  The Little Yellow Bear sighed. “Just a little longer.”

  The Gentle Pig tentatively approached the hole and looked in. “I…I think I see something.” The rest peered over the edge. Sure enough, a pale smudge moved in the darkness, slowly growing larger as it crept closer and closer to the daylight. “Wh-what is it?”

  “Is it a ghost?” the Melancholy Donkey asked.

  “Do you really think it’s a ghost?” the Clever Rabbit asked, sounding as if he wasn’t sure himself.

  A minute later, a white shape stumbled out of the hole and into the waning daylight, took a few awkward steps, and collapsed at their feet. A few moments passed before anyone realized it was the Wise Owl, his feathers miraculously changed from pinecone brown to bone white.

  The Clever Rabbit, who had known him the longest, dropped to his knees and propped up his old friend, cradling him in his arms. “What happened down there? What did you see?”

  The Little Yellow Bear crouched beside them. “Where’s the Curious Tiger?”

  The Wise Owl said nothing nor even acknowledged their existence. He simply stared up at the sky.

  “Should we go after him?” the Melancholy Donkey asked.

  The Clever Rabbit shuddered. “I don’t think I can go down there. I…I can’t.” He met the Little Yellow Bear’s gaze. “Don’t look at me like that! He’s my friend, too.”

  The Little Yellow Bear paused and took a deep breath. “The Curious Tiger can look after himself. He’s had more experience with adventuring than the rest of us put together. We’ll come back later when we’re better prepared. Right now, we need to get Owl home. Let’s get him on his feet.”

  The Melancholy Donkey nudged the Little Yellow Bear. “Put him on my back. I’ll carry him.” He shrugged. “I just don’t want to stay out here tonight, not by myself.”

  “At least things can’t get any stranger,” the Little Yellow Bear said.

  The Gentle Pig winced. There was no better way of asking for trouble.

  Night caught them deep in the Wood, the dim heart of the forest where the trees grew thickest and the sun never shined. The Wise Owl’s house lay on the eastern edge. At the Gentle Pig’s request, the Clever Rabbit had fashioned a makeshift torch from a bit of wood and a strip of cloth from the picnic blanket. The fire’s wavering light cast ragged shadows that danced like clumsy marionettes.

  Just as the Little Yellow Bear was about to ask if anyone else had noticed the conspicuous absence of night sounds, the Clever Rabbit paused. Whiskers twitching, his ears swiveled back and forth. “Did you hear that?”

  The rest of the group came to an abrupt halt. “I didn’t hear anything,” the Melancholy Donkey said. Now his ears stood at attention, too.

  The Gentle Pig pointed to the base of a nearby oak, illuminated by a sliver of moonlight that had managed to squeeze through the thick canopy high above. “Look.”

  Half in shadow, something small and hairy sat trembling.

  “Um, hello,” said the Little Yellow Bear. The Clever Rabbit drew closer with the torch, revealing a long, sleek shape. Its head was tucked beneath its forelimbs. The digits on its paws were long and jointed, like fingers. It even had opposable thumbs.

  “Here, take this and step back,” said the Clever Rabbit, as he handed the torch to the Little Yellow Bear. “I don’t think it likes the light.” He bent over the huddled, still trembling shape. “There, there, little fellow, it’s quite all right,” he said in a soothing voice. “We’re all friends here.”

  Head still down, the shape turned toward them. One concealing paw slid away, then the other, revealing an unexpectedly flat face, vaguely man-like but covered by a thin coat of brown fur. No longer trembling, it raised its head and slowly opened its eyes. The sight of them elicited a gasp from the Gentle Pig. The thing’s eyes burned with a light of their own, like enchanted jewels illuminated by a mystic glow. It raised its left paw as if in greeting, slowly uncurling its fingers to reveal hooked claws. Then the corners of its mouth pulled back in an impossibly wide grin, displaying a mouthful of teeth as long and thin as needles.

  The Gentle Pig took a step back. “I think-”

  Hissing like a frightened cat, the thing launched itself at the Clever Rabbit. It slammed into him and they both toppled to the ground. The others stared dumbstruck as their friend grappled with the strange creature. Locking its arms around the Clever Rabbit, the thing sank its fangs into his neck. The Clever Rabbit screamed as the thing gnawed at his neck while simultaneously raking his belly with its hind claws, partially disemboweling him.

  The Gentle Pig shoved the Little Yellow Bear. “Do something!”

  The Little Yellow Bear stepped forward and brought the makeshift torch down on the thing’s skull, knocking it off the Clever Rabbit and singeing its fur. More stunned than hurt, the snarling creature rose up. A pair of hooves struck it from behind with enough force to send it hurtling into a nearby tree, which it hit with a sickening crunch. Now both stunned and hurt, the thin stubbornly rose to its feet.

  While his friends occupied the creature, the Gentle Pig reached into the Clever Rabbit’s discarded picnic basket and withdrew a thin, gleaming object. He looked up in time to see the thing slam into a tree, only to rise up again. Black blood flowed from its nose and mouth, but its expression remained savage and fierce. The Gentle Pig took a step toward the creature then paused. Looking down at the object he held, he saw the Clever Rabbit’s prone form reflected in its shiny surface. He squealed and charged the creature, which turn
ed just in time to receive the Clever Rabbit’s carving knife in its chest.

  A moment later, two of the friends stood panting over the thing.

  “Is it dead?” the Melancholy Donkey asked.

  The Little Yellow Bear nodded. “I think so.”

  “So is he,” said the Gentle Pig.

  They turned and saw the Gentle Pig crouched over the Clever Rabbit. He looked at the Little Yellow Bear, his eyes glistening a little bit. “He wasn’t such a bad fellow, was he?”

  “No.” The Little Yellow Bear slowly shook his head. “He wasn’t a bad fellow at all.” He reached down and gently closed the Clever Rabbit’s eyes.

  The Gentle Pig stood up. “Now what do we do?”

  “Lovecraft,” the Wise Owl moaned.

  The Melancholy Donkey leaned in close. “What did you say?”

  “Lovecraft,” the Wise Owl repeated.

  The Little Yellow Bear nodded in the direction they were originally headed. “Let’s keep going to the Wise Owl’s place. Maybe there’s something there that can help us, or at least tell us what’s going on.”

  “What about…” The Gentle Pig didn’t have to finish. Everyone knew what he was referring to.

  Glancing at their friend’s body, the Little Yellow Bear quickly looked away. “We have to leave him here. We need to get moving and we don’t know if any more of those things are out there. We’ll come back for him when we can.” He met the Gentle Pig’s stare. “I’m sorry. He…”

  The Gentle Pig nodded. “He was your friend, too.”

  They started again for the Wise Owl’s house. As he walked by the still form, the Melancholy Donkey paused long enough to nuzzle the Gentle Rabbit’s whiskered face.

  The rest of the trip was nerve-wracking, but uneventful. After reaching the Wise Owl’s tree-house, the Melancholy Donkey and the Gentle Pig saw to the Wise Owl while the Little Yellow Bear built a roaring fire and made sure that the doors and shutters were secured.

  After making the Wise Owl as comfortable as possible, the Gentle Pig went to look for his best friend. He found him in the library. “What are you looking for?”

  The Little Yellow Bear scratched his head. “What was it Owl said?”

  The Gentle Pig thought for a moment. “Lovecraft, I think.”

  They glanced at the countless volumes lining the walls of the Wise Owl’s expansive library. Somehow it seemed even larger than the last time they’d visited. The word ‘vast’ even came to mind.

  “Of course, they aren’t in alphabetical order,” the Little Yellow Bear observed.

  “Where do you suppose Owl got all these books?”

  The Little Yellow Bear considered that for a moment then shrugged. “I don’t know. I never really thought about it.”

  The Melancholy Donkey soon joined them, and they spent the next hour scouring shelf after shelf of books.

  “Found it,” the Gentle Pig said.

  The three gathered round and stared at the book he held. It wasn’t ancient, but certainly old. Bound in a rough green cloth, the book’s cover was blank. Bold letters on its spine announced THE DREAM-QUEST OF UNKNOWN KADATH by H.P. Lovecraft.

  “Do you think this is it?” the Melancholy Donkey asked.

  The Little Yellow Bear opened the book. “Only one way to find out.”

  The work of an author with an astounding imagination, but a style only a few degrees removed from pastiche, The Dream-Quest of Unknown Kadath was the story of Randolph Carter, a man who escapes the boredom of his mundane existence through his dreams. After discovering the gate to the Dreamlands, a fantastic realm as real as Earth but accessible only through dreams, he embarks on a quest to find the gods of that land who dwell in the mysterious and forbidden land of Kadath. Descending the Seven Hundred Steps of Deeper Slumber, Carter emerges in a place called the Enchanted Wood where he encounters the zoogs…small, vicious creatures with a taste for human flesh. Deep in the Enchanted Wood, Carter discovered a massive trapdoor which leads to the Underworld, a dark realm inhabited by an endless variety of horrors, each more bizarre than the last. Worst of all were the-

  “But it’s just a story,” the Melancholy Donkey interrupted.

  The Little Yellow Bear nodded slowly. “Of course it is.”

  “What does it mean?” the Gentle Pig asked.

  “The Fair-Haired Boy,” the Little Yellow Bear said after a moment, “once told me something I promised never to repeat. He said that in the Outside beyond the Forest, he once came across a book. The book caught his eye because of the characters on the cover...a bear, a pig, a tiger, a donkey, a rabbit, and an owl. He began to read the book and discovered all his friends were in it, having the very same adventures that we’ve had over the years.”

  “What does it mean?” the Gentle Pig repeated.

  The Melancholy Donkey glanced at the dark corners of the room. “It would explain a lot.”

  “I think,” the Little Yellow Bear said after a moment, “it means that there’s no such thing as ‘just a story'.”

  They stood in silence for a few moments, contemplating the Little Yellow Bear’s words.

  “Suppose it’s not just a coincidence,” the Melancholy Donkey said. “So now those things, those…zoogs are in our story?”

  The Little Yellow Bear shrugged. “Maybe we’re in theirs.”

  The Gentle Pig scratched his chin. “Maybe…maybe it’s a brand new story altogether. I wonder…” His voice trailed off.

  “What do you wonder?” the Little Yellow Bear prompted.

  The Gentle Pig‘s face darkened, then became a smile. “I wonder if we’re going to be able to get a good sleep tonight.”

  The Melancholy Donkey snorted. “I’m sure going to try.”

  “Good,” the Little Yellow Bear said. “You’re going to need it. We’re going to check on the Fair-Haired Boy tomorrow.”

  The next morning, the Little Yellow Bear found a knapsack and filled it with some food and a few odds and ends. Among them were a compass, a map of the forest with a signature in the lower left hand corner implying the map was the Wise Owl’s own work, and some matches. After a bit of rummaging, he came across a ball of twine and a hatchet, which he used to make a crude spear with the Clever Rabbit’s walking stick and a carving knife. After that, he went to look for his friends and found them talking quietly so they wouldn't disturb the Wise Owl whose condition hadn’t changed.

  “I’d like you to stay here and keep an eye on things,” he said to the Melancholy Donkey.

  “But…” The Melancholy Donkey sighed. “Oh, okay.”

  The Little Yellow Bear looked at the Gentle Pig. “Well then, off we go.”

  At the edge of the clearing, they turned and looked back. The Melancholy Donkey was watching them from the terrace.

  The Little Yellow Bear waved. “See you soon.”

  He received a small nod in reply, which was a major expression of emotion for his friend.

  As they departed, the Little Yellow Bear and the Gentle Pig kept looking back every few minutes until the Wise Owl’s house was swallowed up by the forest.

  “Do you think they’ll be alright?” the Gentle Pig asked.

  The Little Yellow Bear nodded. “They’ll be fine,” he said, trying to sound as sincere as possible.

  They had never been to the Fair-Haired Boy’s house before. It was too close to the Outside for comfort. They didn’t even know what the Outside actually was. The forest wasn’t just their home; it was the totality of their existence. It was hard to imagine anything beyond the forest, anything...outside.

  They walked for hours, sometimes talking but mostly in silence. When they did speak, it was of trivialities. Out of the Wood and beneath the warm glow of the sun, it was almost possible to pretend the previous day had been a nightmare. Their mood began to lighten, and a few jokes were even exchanged. Then a mundane rabbit darted into view and vanished just as quick, taking with it what little good cheer they had managed to regain.

  The Little Yell
ow Bear checked the compass he had taken from the Wise Owl’s house. A lifetime ago, the Fair-Haired Boy had proudly showed them a compass he’d received on his birthday, telling them his house lay exactly halfway between North and East. It was the closest thing to directions they had.

  Night found them in a meadow that stretched across a wide valley where they decided to make camp. After a light supper, they bedded down and took turns assigning names to unfamiliar constellations as they drifted off to sleep. Only later did it occur to the Little Yellow Bear that even the stars seemed different than before.

  During the night, a shadow detached itself from the inky blackness beyond the ring of firelight and crept toward the camp. Though man-shaped, its eyes blazed with reflected light and it sniffed the air like a beast. Had the Little Yellow Bear or the Gentle Pig been awake, they would have glimpsed a hunched figure, gangly as a scarecrow, with a strange mixture of human and canine features.

  Perhaps the strange figure wasn’t partial to bear or pig meat. Perhaps it was simply curious. Whatever the case, it was content to quietly rummage through the Little Yellow Bear’s knapsack before fading back into the night empty-handed.

  Morning came. Rising with the sun, the friends packed up camp and were quickly on their way.

  “I had a strange dream last night,” the Gentle Pig said.

  “That something came into the camp and was watching us sleep?”

  “No,” he replied, shaking his head. “I dreamed we were playing hide-and-seek in the Wood. Everybody was there, even the Fair-Haired boy. He seemed a little sad, though.”

  “Hmm. Maybe you were dreaming of one last game before he had to leave for good.”

  “Maybe. All in all, it was a nice dream.”

  The rest of the trip was uneventful. Nothing sprung out of the tall grass, nor came down from the trees or across the hills to harass them. Spirits rising, they were in reasonably good moods when they reached their destination.

  The Little Yellow Bear knew they had come to the end of their journey when he saw the house. It was exactly what he’d pictured based on the Fair-Haired Boy’s description. Before them stood a quaint cottage; wide and cozy, it seemed like a mansion in their eyes. For a child, it would have been the perfect place to pause between adventures and rest one’s weary head. Except…