by Sam Zadgan
The miners’ pleasure was shortlived, as even a ruthless unloving grandfather can only stand so much. The inn keeper, with rifle in hand, rushed the miners out of the room, firing the gun once to make sure they would leave and never come back. He then looked upon his granddaughter, silent and in shock with torn clothes. Blood was dotted on her white robe and tears were running down her face. The mirror image of the daughter that he threw out into the street fifteen years earlier, and now his granddaughter raped and abused in his inn. The inn keeper broke down to his knees, shame and grief taking over his whole being. Years of guilt and sadness all to save his pride and reputation, and this was the result.
Charlene was beyond any kind of family reunion; the hate and anger she now possessed pushed her to her feet. She approached the inn keeper and put her hand over his head, and at that instant he felt a noose around his heart shooting pain throughout his body. She raised her other hand above her head, chanting in some ancient tongue, calling down for strength and bidding for something to be done in her name. Following this, people at the inn recalled a small tremor, not an earthquake, but just a very small shaking that lasted for approximately half a minute and then subsided. They then recalled the young girl walking down the stairs and out of the inn, and disappearing into the dark night at the edges of the town, never to be seen again.
The next day in Mount Kembla there was a disaster that shadows the town to this day: the mining disaster of 1902. There was speculation about what occurred and what caused the explosion in the mine that took the lives of so many miners and left widows and fatherless children in the town. The primary reason reported was the release of gas in the mines sometime the night before. A speculative theory at the time, as the mine was known for being gas-free and safe, but later the evidence was conclusive to the presence of gas. But no one could ascertain where the gas had come from, and how the gas penetrated the mines of Mount Kembla.
4. Grimoire of Ahriman
The next part of the story, Steve Cooling actually heard from the doctor himself, when he made the trip to Mount Kembla. The doctor remembered the events and recalled it with some fear and a tremble in his voice. He remembered on the day of the explosion, he was first called to the inn as the inn keeper had died from a heart attack. Upon finishing his work there, he still made the trip to see Charlene’s mother, but he was met with more sorrow as Charlene’s mother had passed during the night.
At first the doctor thought the symptoms of the infection were accelerated, but upon further inspection he concluded she too had been struck with a heart attack. But that wasn’t the most troubling thing in the abandoned cabin, as he also saw a book by her bedside table.
In fact, besides the makeshift beds, the small table, and the book, there was nothing else in the cabin, which was strange given the two had lived there for so long. But, forgetting the somewhat large anomaly, he turned his attention to the book. The black leatherbound book was tattered and rough, yet still sturdy. He opened the book to reveal the title, in a strange text that was a series of short vertical and horizontal lines. He had no idea what it was, but knew of someone in town who might: a professor of geology and archaeology, who worked for the mining company.
That night, amongst the madness in the town, the doctor sat at his dining room table with Professor Dickson, who inspected the book through his reading glasses. He opened the book and inspected the title, at which point he took his glasses off and looked up at the doctor accusingly.
“Where did you get this book, Gerald?” he said in a short and unforgiving tone.
The doctor reiterated the story honestly and assured him of the truthfulness of it, which seemed to appease the professor. He looked down at the book again and randomly flicked through some pages. He looked up again.
“This book is very dangerous. I assume you have no idea what this book is about and where it’s from?”
The doctor shrugged, so the professor continued.
“Gerald, you’ve stumbled onto something quite evil here, and between you and me, I am glad the owner of this book is dead and her daughter has left town. Loosely translated, it’s The Grimoire of Ahriman. It’s an ancient Persian book of sorcery.”
The doctor smiled at the ridiculous nature of the book. “Surely, professor, you don’t believe this stuff is real. I mean, I don’t doubt that’s what the book is about, but to think that there was any danger. I mean, it’s 1902, not 1602…” The doctor smirked mockingly.
“Yes, I’m not saying magic is real.” The professor laughed quietly, and then continued more seriously. “But anyone in possession of a book like this is a dangerous human being. The kind of madness that would believe in this kind evil is inherently evil. But, Gerald, although we are both men of science, there are still aspects of this earth that we can’t explain. I’m not saying there is truth to this book, but deep down I can’t discount it wholly. And for someone to have had this book for so long and to have passed it down generation after generation after generation…”
The doctor interrupted him at this stage, his interest piqued. “What do you mean generation to generation…? How old is this book?”
“Oh, I don’t think this book is all that old. It’s been hand copied from a previous version. I have no idea when the original owner had this book. But I can tell you this: a similar book, Picatrix, which was an Arabic book of sorcery, was written in the tenth century. Now, considering this is Persian and is written in text which is pre-Arabic invasion, when the Persians were Zoroastrians, it could be dated to any time before the year 650.” The professor mused over the cover, trying to confirm the authenticity of what he had claimed.
Meanwhile, Gerald took a deep breath and sat back in his chair. But he was still puzzled and had one last question he thought. “So the Gremoire of Amri…”
The professor interrupted him quickly. “No, Gerald, it’s The Grimoire of Ahriman, the name the Zoroastrians gave to their evil god, what the Arabs and Hebrews later called Shatan, and we call Satan…now, do you get why I was concerned?”
The reality of the situation suddenly sank in for the doctor and he realised how close he was to the kind of madness that only appears in dreams. But then his thoughts turned to the book itself and the small issue of him now having possession of it, which had such evil surrounding it.
He turned to the professor pleadingly. “Professor, with everything you’ve told me, to be honest, I don’t really want this book in my house. Would you mind taking it?”
To his surprise, however, the professor had no reservations and was actually pleased at the notion, quickly nodding his head like a child accepting candy.
Once the doctor had told his story to Steve, he asked about the interest in Charlene and the events of that night, and was dually horrified when Steve informed him that she had arrived in their town. He pleaded with him that the town folk needed to take action and not let her stay there— she and her kind were not people that should walk amongst the living. Steve was not rattled; he wanted some reason for any kind of hasty action, like exiling a person from a town, and he was surely given one. The doctor then recounted to Steve the subsequent night at Mount Kembla.
The professor left the doctor’s house that night with the book, and headed home for some late night reading and research into this historical artifact as he saw it. The doctor, meanwhile, had a glass of brandy before retiring to bed, trying to forget the horrors of the day and the sorrow that had befallen the town.
As he sat on his bed on the second floor above the pharmacy, he peered out the window. The town was quiet and the gas lamps in the street were emitting a yellow glow that was making its way through the dust still floating in the air from the explosion earlier in the day. From his room he could see to the next block, and the roof of the professor’s house. He could see the light from his study where the professor was surely working.
But, as he was ready to turn in, he witnessed something that to this day caused shivers through his spine. He saw a shadow in
the street, a shadow like a swirling snake travelling down the street, and the lamps flickering as the shadow passed. Behind the shadow, maybe ten paces back, he saw Charlene, robed in white, walking purposefully behind the abomination. He quickly turned out the candle and stood to his feet, watching this event unfold, completely captivated by it.
His knees soon grew weak and tears of fear ran down his face as Charlene turned her gaze upon him. She saw him, she knew he was there, and they locked eyes for an eternity it seemed. The doctor fell to his knees and his life flashed before his eyes; he felt her eyes threatening his very soul. After a moment and a warning he will never forget, she turned her head back to the shadow.
Then the doctor noticed another strange sight that haunted his dreams. As Charlene walked through the street, each street lamp she passed would flicker and then it would turn off. She extinguished all light behind her, leaving a deep evil darkness that even the moonlight couldn’t illuminate.
He watched the shadow rise up into the air and travel over the houses and shops, whilst Charlene turned the corner and disappeared. The doctor followed the shadow as it ventured closer and closer to the professor’s house and, finally, entering the chimney. The doctor was frozen with fear; the shadow had disappeared, and the doctor couldn’t see into the professor’s house. There was only one sign that he witnessed, a flickering of the light in the professor’s study and then moments later, it extinguished, along with the professor’s life.
The doctor was so distraught that he did not dare leave his house that night, but the next day he quickly made his way to the professor’s house and found him dead in his study. There was no sign of struggle or anybody else being there. For coronary purposes the professor had died of a heart attack at his desk and fallen to the floor. At his desk were some papers, and one fresh paper with some notes that ended abruptly. The doctor remembered the note word for word, as the final harrowing words the professor had written just before his passing.
“This book has been in my possession for a few hours now, which has been little time for me to examine it thoroughly. My first impression is a strange one, which I hope does not make me sound a fool. But I must write this down as it’s an emotion and a moment in time that should be captured.
“Since opening this book in my study, I have had a feeling that my body is being used as a form of communication. There is a distinct sensation in my mind that something is talking through me, out of this house, out of this town and maybe out of the planet and time. I am not sure who is listening and who will respond, but I feel something out there has heard this call and they are using me as a beacon.
“Perhaps reading this book may have been a mistake, and reading these first few phrases or at least translating them may have opened some door.
“I will continue and this may all be part of my wild imagination, but I do have distinct feeling that maybe this should have been left u…”
5. The Pursuit
It was now 1905 and this horror was upon the little town of Bowral, and as Cooling’s story made its way through town there was a common uprising of courage through fear. This all erupted on the Friday night, a night when they knew there would be another gathering at the Green’s farm. That night the faithful town folk congregated in the church. Among them was Steve Cooling, with the Reverend handing down the marching orders for the lynch mob that would rid this town of the evil of Mr Green and Charlene.
They left the church with weapons, home-made adaptations borne from the tools of their trade, but weapons nonetheless. They made their way through the town and to the Green farm where they witnessed from the bushes the wild orgy inside the house. They could see through the few windows the naked bodies drinking the foul beverage made from the mushrooms in the farm, and the drunkenly sexual motions that followed. But they could not see Mr Green or Charlene. They decided to wait until the two leaders could be seen before they made their attack; their plans, however, were foiled.
From the large stable, two caravans led by horses trotted out and the party inside the house came to a close. The men and women in the house began to dress themselves and walked out to the caravans. Within a space of under five minutes the house was deserted and the caravans were filled with the members of the gathering. Mr Green and Charlene were each leading one caravan. When the caravans were full they gave the horses a gentle whip and began the migration out of the farm.
The lynch mob stood in the bushes amazed at the sight they had just seen—there was nothing left for them to do. The evil they wanted to banish was leaving on its own accord. But the Reverend was not satisfied; he rightly pointed out that evil had no boundaries and they had to finish God’s work, meaning to follow the caravans and kill the inhabitants at the first chance. Some of the men in the lynch mob were a little reluctant to follow, and they headed back home safely, knowing that evil had left their town. A small group of ten remained, armed and determined to bear the responsibility of ridding the world of this evil.
They followed the caravans through the night, keeping a manageable distance to avoid detection through the semi paths of the forest. This part of the forest hadn’t been seen by most of the town folk as there had never been a need to venture so deep before, but the caravans pushed on with purpose to an undisclosed destination. Steve Cooling was among the “Faithful Few”, as they were later referred to by the town folk. As they were traipsing through the bush he couldn’t help but remember the story the doctor had recited, in particular the shadows that led Charlene to the professor’s house. He wondered whether beyond the caravans there were shadows leading them, but he dared not look; instead he mentioned it to the Reverend. The Reverend gripped his crucifix as he slowly made his way to the front of the lynch mob and raised his head up and above the bush to see if there was indeed anything leading the caravans. He froze in his tracks.
The lynch mob all stopped behind the Reverend as he crouched down, his face of fear was enough for the Faithful Few to know what he had seen. They all took stock of their courage and faith in their God and continued on as brave knights of the cross. The group stepped through rough terrain, keeping off any discernable path to maintain their secret pursuit.
Their best attempt at staying under this cloak of invisibility was fraught, however. Steve Cooling was first to hear a noise in the bushes past the trees they had just passed. The mob stopped in their tracks and turned to the source of the sound, trying to see through the darkness at what lurked past the trees. They didn’t make a sound; deep down they didn’t want to confront whatever crept behind the trees.
But their hopes fell on unforgiving fate, as the thick brush and trees parted with a gust of wind and the black shadowy cloud emerged and hovered above. The serpent shadow looked down upon the lynch mob for a moment, before swooping down and slithering through the men. Each man who met with the shadow fell to their knees in great pain before collapsing to the ground, their hearts failing them. Steve Cooling witnessed everything, but the serpent didn’t attack him, only the eight other men, and it left as quickly as it had arrived.
Steve Cooling looked down at the mob, the dead men, whose lives were so easily taken by this dark force. Only he and Reverend remained. Steve’s resolve was starting to shake, but the Reverend was quick to his aid, gripping his hand and quoting biblical phrases of courage. Steve and the Reverend decide to push on, their fate was certain in their minds, but if they retreated, they would not be honouring the lives of the eight men who lay before them.
The rest of the journey was not so long, only a few hundred metres, and they reached a small clearing where the caravans stopped. As Steve Cooling and the Reverend got closer they were amazed at the sight of a large house in the middle of the clearing and to the left, a church. The way the cult were leaving the caravans and entering this new house it would appear as though this house was built for them. A few short minutes passed before everyone was in the house and the doors were closed.
6. Birth of a town
Assessi
ng the large house, and the absence of the serpent shadow, the two men felt their confidence return. They investigated all the routes to the house and the possible scenarios, especially given that there was now only two of them. Their plan was to set fire to the house; Steve Cooling had matches and all they needed was some loose dry shrub to put at the base of the house to ignite the fire. The Reverend and Steve set to work and before long they had amassed two small mountains of dead wood, leaves and debris at the front door of the house. Luckily the cult inside the house was so distracted by whatever ceremony they were holding that the two men’s activities went unnoticed.
The Reverend, gripping his cross, whispered a prayer, and Steve Cooling lit the fire with his matches. On first attempt both stacks of kindle took the flame and immediately burst up along the wooden panels of the house, forcing Steve and the Reverend to take a step back. Both men gradually walked backwards as the flames grew higher and higher, their plan perfectly executed. Inside, meanwhile, they were still oblivious to flames outside the door and they carried on with their ceremony.
Steve Cooling and the Reverend stood by watching the flames climb up the front of the wooden building. As if there was some kind of external influence, the flames climbed higher at an incredible speed. But suddenly both men felt a force passing through them, and then they saw the dark shadow of the serpent pass through and towards the building. As fast as the flames grew and engulfed the building, the flames disappeared back to the small shrubs on the ground. The two men were stunned that they were still alive after coming in contact with the serpent shadow. But worse: Charlene and Mr Green emerged from the house.