Urban Temples of Cthulhu - Modern Mythos Anthology

by Khurt Khave

  Making my way into the building I was able to not only get to the roof with no problem but as fate would have it once there I found a ladder propped up against one side which they must have been using to survey the damage that had caused the roof to partially collapse.

  I heard a low sound in the background as I slipped inside and felt the Earth slightly vibrate beneath my feet. Something was happening and it felt like the machinery or possibly a generator rumbling. Whatever it was, was clearly underneath me and I would have to find a way to the lower level to check it out.

  Had I actually found a hidden military base or terrorist training ground? I had to know. I also knew that I had to keep even quieter because if this was a base full of combatants I knew they would shoot first and ask questions later.

  I passed from room to room, each one seemed just as deserted as the last, though as I neared the center of the structure the sound grew louder. Slowly making my way down one of the corridors I came to a giant circular room in the center of the structure that took my breath away and had the hairs on the back of my neck sticking straight up.

  The first thing that caught my eye was a giant statue that seemed to encompass the entire room. I’m not sure if it was the light reflecting on whatever material it was made from but it was hard to focus on. Its detail was exquisite and yet it was hard to see the details on any area of the beast that it represented long enough to truly make sense of it.

  While I can’t tell you exactly what it was from what I could see, it was an ornately carved statue of a giant squid-headed creature with wings, arms, tentacles, and tentacles that spread across the room. As I turned slowly to take it all in, I noticed that the door I had passed through seemed to have a carving of the Earth behind it, part of an area of the United States.

  Steeped in shadow I hadn’t even noticed that at the base of the creature were the symbols of what I at the time thought of as the Jesus fish and next to it a warped pentagram with an eye at its center. Below them both was a dark pit that seemed to go on forever and right in front of its giant maw was a staircase that led down into the darkness.

  At that moment I realized that the sound I had been hearing was echoing up from the abyss that fell open before me.

  The sound pulsated in a steady beat. Even from within this chamber it sounded faint. Almost like a heartbeat in its rhythm. I was unable to tear my gaze away from the stairs leading down into the black pit. My mind was screaming for me to run as me legs slowly pulled me towards the sound.

  At the very precipice of darkness, I was suddenly struck by a feeling of serenity as if I didn't have a care in the world. As if nothing mattered but getting to the sound. Getting to the power that it would fill me with.

  Suddenly there was a burst of static in my ear and it stopped me from taking another step towards the chasm. “Report!” a voice barked at me. As loud and as clear as it must have been it had to fight to make its way into being understood.

  I was again frozen in place. Years of training to be a good soldier were so ingrained in me that I was able to stop and partially regain my composure, at least for a moment.

  I swallowed hard before replying.

  “There’s something here,” I croaked out. I had to force the words out through my throat which had become unbelievably dry. They must have thought I was whispering but it was all I could do to hold in the scream that was building in the back of my conscious and respond at all.

  It took effort but I was able to shake my head to clear out the cobwebs that had coated my brain and started to feel as if I was awakening from a restless sleep.

  I could tell finally tell what the rhythmic sound coming from below was. Chanting. Whoever they were, they were chanting in a language that I had never heard before. It sounded like a combination of music and words being spoken by the dead themselves.

  The serene feeling that I had been experiencing had faded as the smells of copper and rot filled my nose.

  “Return to base and report.”

  The words filled my mind and I desperately clung to them. Their meaning mostly lost to me but I repeated them over and over in my mind. Still not fully in control of my faculties the only thing I knew was that I had to get out. I had to get out now or I’d never leave this crypt.

  When I had made it back to our camp I had reported what I had seen, downplaying the fear I had experienced. Command felt it didn’t warrant further investigation after reviewing my report and checking with satellite imagery that showed nothing out of the ordinary. The two men I had seen weren’t guards and for all intents and purposes I hadn’t actually seen anything suspicious enough to warrant a follow up.

  While I couldn’t convince our command to go back I had to know what I had seen and when I snuck back the next night the temple was gone. Nothing remained of the structure in the center of that oceanside town. At the center of where it had been was a rock with two symbols carved into it; the fish and the pentagram.

  It would be years before I left the military and years more before I would discover what those symbols may mean. The thought of them had become an obsession, taking over my sanity. I couldn’t sleep without seeing them and most nights I was awakened by nightmares of that statue that I couldn’t focus on.

  When I finally read about an ancient cult who had worshipped the symbols, I learned that at one time they'd had a stepping stone into the United States. A small town which had once been a striving hub in Massachusetts, reported to have been swallowed up in the 1920’s by the very water that had made it such a success.

  Praying I couldn’t have hit a dead end, I had traveled the coastal towns near Essex County. Each year moving and investigating the next town. Knowing I had to find something. Some trace of this group whose symbols would not leave my mind.

  That brings us to now. That brings us to the man who had to have answers for me. Everyone else may feel that he had gone mad with words of a twisted people, a sleeping god and a great city full of decay and ruin. I knew better. I knew he had to have seen something. He had to know something. Even while bound and gagged on the table before me his entire body jerked and his eyes flew wide. He tried to move and strangely it seemed the restraints did more to calm him than anything else had so far. His body went limp and his eyes were lucid as I told him that he was safe and being treated. I asked if I could remove the gag from his mouth, if he would be calm and not scream.

  He slowly nodded. His eyes were focused on me with an intensity that would have seemed impossible just moments before.

  I removed the gag and slowly raised a bowl of water to his lips. He drank greedily and when he had his fill I didn't bother with questions. He uttered a single word. . .

  “Innsmouth.”

  My pulse raced as I heard the lost city’s name.

  His pure terror that practically oozed from his pours told me he had been there. The doorway I had seen in that sculpture so many years before was so close I could taste it. I knew if I could only find it I could make the dreams go away. Forever.

  “How do you get there?” I prodded, the fever creeping into my tone in a manner I struggled to hide.

  The man was completely pale and staring at me as if I was the madman.

  “You wouldn't be able to find it on your own,” he started with desperation making a home in his voice, “and I'll never go back. Nothing can make me go back.”

  I was on him before even I knew what was happening with his face inches from mine, spittle spraying into his face as I yelled.

  “You'll show me the way or take me there if it's the last thing you do!” My hands were beating at the table. Beating on him to a rhythm I could hear in the black recesses of my mind. Growing louder and needing to be set free.

  He begged me to stop. Tears rolling down a face full of defeat before finally uttering what I needed to hear.

  “I'll take your as far as the shore but I won't leave the boat,” he sobbed.

  My entire body froze and I realized I was panting from exertion. How long
had I been beating him before he had given in? I slowly looked down and saw that my hands were slick with a mixture of blood and sweat.

  My stomach churned in disgust. I couldn't tell if it was from what I had done or because on a primal level I had enjoyed doing it. Had wanted to keep on beating him until. . . No. I wouldn't allow myself to think that.

  “We will need to leave at night,” he was saying. “You can only find it at night and we'll have to go by boat.”

  For someone who had fought through everything he had, the man was almost stoic in his response. He seemed resigned to his fate. Which was good, as his fate was to lead me to Innsmouth. After that I really could care less what became of him. All that mattered was getting to that godforsaken city.

  As we made our way down the coastline we were leaving civilization behind. The coastal towns faded into deserted beaches and stretches of trees until nothing but nature and our boat remained. After half an hour he pointed towards an outcropping of rocks barely visible in the gloom.

  “When we pass those you are going to want to turn and take us directly away from land.” He smirked at my confusion, “Innsmouth was swallowed up by the water but anything that foul would be spit back up from time to time.”

  I followed his directions knowing I didn't have to remind him of the pistol that hung at my side. With my earlier reaction he would probably think that a quick way out would be a blessing.

  It wasn't long before we ran aground. I'd been down this exact way countlesss times and there had never been land here before.

  “I told you we could only find it at night.” He looked at me with a strength I didn't think possible, “I'll be going now though. The rest is on you and nothing you can say or do short of killing me will keep me here.”

  It didn't matter anymore. I couldn't even focus on the words he was saying as I leapt out of the boat. All I could focus on was the rhythm that now pounded in my skull. For what had felt like a lifetime in waiting, I could finally hear the chanting once again.

  I made my way up the shore and didn't spare a glance as I heard my boat leaving me behind. All that matters is getting to the source of the chanting and ending it.

  As I left the shoreline I came across the ruins of a city that appeared to mirror the one I had once fled in my youth.

  The chanting was louder but still only sounded like the tribal beating of drums. I made my way through the city, and while it had been a lifetime ago, I vividly remembered my way to the temple.

  As I approached it, there were again guards at the door. Nearing the entrance, I could see them clearly for the first time. Their skin appeared to be covered with scales and their eyes seemed milky white. They had the look of the blind, or more accurately, the dead.

  Hand on my gun, they both moved out of the way to let me pass. As if they expected me.

  As I walked through the stone hallways the chanting grew louder, reverberating in my very bones. I couldn't know the way from the front entrance and yet I was moving forward as if my body knew where to go. If I could only make out the words of the chanting. Passing through the corridors I finally came to the chamber that I woke to every night when I tried to shut my eyes.

  The great beast was carved into the wall before me and I still couldn't focus on it. The details wouldn't converge and I could sense that it's tentacles were moving. I could feel the wind blowing on my face from its wings. Its eyes pierced my soul and found me lacking, unworthy, insignificant.

  I shook my head.

  It was only a statue. It's not what I was here for. An old statue didn't matter even as I approached it. Only one thing mattered. I needed to find the chanting. I needed to stop the waking dream that was now my life.

  I could feel its power swirling up from the depths. I boldly strode across the rest of the room with my eyes cast downward away from the statue and focused on the black hole before it. Focused on my feet as I placed them onto the first steps in the darkness below me, the first steps into the abyss.

  Stuart Conover is a father, husband, rescue dog owner, horror author, blogger, journalist, horror enthusiast, comic book geek, science fiction junkie, and IT professional. With all of that to cram in on a daily basis it is highly debatable that he ever is able to sleep and rumors have him attached to an IV drip of caffeine to get through most days.

  A resident in the suburbs of Chicago (and once upon a time in the city) most of Stuart’s fiction takes place in the Midwest if not the Windy City itself. From downtown to the suburbs to the cornfields - the area is ripe for urban horror of all facets.

  Homepage: http://www.StuartConover.com Twitter: http://www.twitter.com/StuartConover Facebook: http://facebook.com/StuartConoverAuthor

  Sleep Talking Jeff C. Stevenson

  Madeline Harrington awoke at 3:15 to the sounds of her husband in bed next to her muttering over and over, “Command me here, command me here, command me here. . .”

  She and Alex had been married for fourteen years so she knew his sleeping patterns and was aware that while he snored occasionally, he hardly ever mumbled or spoke when sleeping. In fact, she rarely woke up during the night because of her husband; they both fell asleep easily and usually slept through the night, undisturbed, like two canoes on a still lake.

  So his early morning chanting was odd and intriguing since the words were spoken so clearly. Madeline listened a few more seconds before jostling Alex gently in the side.

  “. . .here, command me—”

  At her touch, he stopped speaking, as suddenly as if the plug had been yanked from the TV. He inhaled sharply, almost a gasp, and then exhaled back into a normal breathing pattern. Madeline waited a moment before turning away from her husband to be certain he was asleep and not about to start up again. Then she turned over, settled into her pillows, and within a minute was back asleep.

  The next morning she didn’t even remember waking up.

  “By the sky above, I summon thee. . .”

  He had been saying the phrase several times before she consciously woke up, like hitting the snooze button and not really being aware you were doing it. She opened her eyes in the darkened bedroom, slightly disoriented. Why was she awake?

  “By the earth below, I summon thee.”

  “Alex?” she said into the darkness.

  “By the promise of air, I summon thee.”

  She turned over and faced her sleeping husband, not quite sure if she

  was awake or what she was hearing.

  “By the rage of fire, I summon thee.”

  “Alex? Wake up, honey.”

  He was on his back, speaking to the ceiling. She touched his chest and

  shook him slightly to awaken him.

  “By the sky above, I summon thee. . .”

  “Alex!” she whispered fiercely, shaking him harder. “Wake up, you’re

  dreaming.”

  “By the earth below, I summon thee,” he said, his voice clear and each

  word distinct. It sounded to Madeline as if he was directly addressing

  someone, entreating with him or her, and the thought gave her the chills. It’s

  like someone is in the room with us, she thought.

  Louder now, he said, “By the promise of air, I summon thee.” She clicked on the lamp by her bed. “Alex! Wake up!”

  His face was aglow in sweat as if he had been exerting himself. How

  long had he been making these statements? He slept in boxer shorts and when she pulled down the sheet, she could see he was drenched in sweat, his chest hair damp and matted in swirls. His eyes were halfway closed but he continued to speak, even with the light on and her shaking him more aggressively.

  She looked at the clock. 3:15.

  “By the rage of fire, I –”

  “Alex!” she cried out and he jerked awake.

  “What?! Maddy, what is it, what’s wrong?” he asked, sitting up,

  blinking in the glare of the light. “Are you okay? What happened?” “Not me, you. Are you okay? You were talkin
g in your sleep, crazy

  stuff, and you wouldn’t shut up. Are you okay?”

  He rubbed his eyes, felt the moisture on his face. “I’m drenched! I

  must have been having some weird dream,” he said. While he was in the

  bathroom cleaning himself up, Madeline punched up the pillows behind them

  and straightened the sheets and bedspread. Alex grabbed a fresh pair of

  boxers and climbed back into bed.

  “What was I saying?”

  “Something about summoning the earth and sky.”

  “Summoning?” He yawned, his mouth suddenly huge and wide.

  “What a weird word to use.”

  “Are you okay now? Are you feeling alright? Maybe it was a fever

  dream or something?” She palmed his forehead but it wasn’t hot. He yawned again and shrugged, “Sorry about that. I feel okay. Have I

  done it before?”

  “Not that I know of and your never woke me up with it,” Madeline

  said, but she wondered if he had done it before but she had simply slept

  through it. Once he was settled, she turned off the bedside light and snuggled

  up to him, spooning him from behind. Soon his breathing slowed as he fell

  asleep. In the darkness, she held on to him, waiting for sleep to pull her under.

  The next morning they discussed it over coffee, but Alex said he didn’t remember any dream that would cause him to say such things. Madeline could no longer remember the exact words he had used, other than something about summoning the earth and sky. They shrugged it off as “just one of those things” and soon parted for the day, he to his real estate office and she to the landscape nursery where she worked three days a week.

  That evening, they slept fine and neither remembered waking up during the night.

  Two nights later, Madeline woke with a start. Alex was in the middle of a sentence and he had stopped speaking as soon as she came awake. She lay in bed next to him, her heart pounding away nervously. She listened but now he was silent. Madeleine had the feeling again that Alex had actually been talking to someone. They had sensed when I woke up and had ceased their conversation, was the crazy thought that crept up to her and whispered into her mind.