by Mac Flynn
Seeing he wasn't going to find much friendly help from that quarter, Tony wandered through the library on his own. He wasn't completely lost to what section he needed to find, for Mr. Allen had mentioned the book being hidden in the W section of the bookshelves. In a few minutes he found the area and scoured the shelves, stifling an exclamation of joy and victory when he discovered the thin book he sought.
For his perusal, Tony stuck himself into the corner farthest from the front desk and blocked from view by the many bookshelves. Once the young man was comfortable he flipped open the first page. There was a sample of simple cursive handwriting on the front which read thusly:
Research Journal of Professor Alexander Ward.
Those few words were followed by an address for a university several dozen miles away from the small town around the mountain. The first entry was dated nearly sixty years ago, according to Allen's information much too long ago for the incident, so Tony flipped through the pages searching for keywords such as the mountain's name. He found the first mention a little over fifty-five years ago, and read of the professor's short adventure onto the mountain with his reluctant graduate class. The entries for the adventure started out excited, but judging from the shorter sentences and terser words Tony could see he was angry and disappointed by the failure for a thorough examination of the site.
The next entry concerning the mountain was dated two years later, and mentioned Mr. Allen as his packing boy. There were comments about the experiments he sought to perform around the cabin and his hopes for a great geological discovery. The entry for that day of climbing was dull and normal enough until Tony hit a point where the handwriting, at first smooth and clear, suddenly became jagged and shaky. He had to strain his reading abilities to decipher what lay on the pages, and noticed the date was a month after the previous entry.
This is a true account of what occurred on that accursed mountain and the cabin which hides such a terrifying secret. I can only hope my account saves other souls, for I fear mine is nearly gone from myself. The creature will soon have it and I fear I shall be forever under its power. Oh, if only I had not followed my foolish curiosity!
With such a presentation, Tony's heart beat faster his eyes scanned over the information held in those pages. The more he read the more he felt as though he was replaying the events of both his and Amanda's dealings with the creature, but fifty years prior.
But enough of such regrets. They will help no one, not even myself. No doubt any who has read the previous entries will be most confused why I start this tale from the beginning, but my eyes are opened now to what I missed during those writings. My foolish naivety is forever a stain on those pages, but here I shall give a more brief and yet accurate account of what occurred that night. I do not know if my mind shall ever have such lucidity again, so I must write quickly and summarize as best I can.
I will begin my tale again at the beginning of my second visit to the mountain. The first is well-documented in the newspaper local to the town of Miskatonic, and I need not waste precious time and space repeating the same which can be found there. I need only say the first visit ended rather abruptly, and I see now it was our own instincts warning us off from the creature. My graduate class and I thus fled from the mountain, but I swore to return with more courage and better equipment.
I achieved this dream two years later, which was but one month ago. I was alone this time, for though the first group had completed their studies they had passed on tales of the goings on during the first visit. I could find no one else willing to climb with me out of fear, I thought rash, foolish fear, but now I see they were much wiser than myself. I carried the equipment up to the cabin with the help of a local boy and we both settled in for a long night of study, at least on my part. My first visit had shown more activity after the sun set, and I meant to stay up the entire night in the search for seismic anomalies and signs of any volcanic activity.
My theory was settled on the mountain being a dormant volcano with fumes which emerged through fissures. These fumes no doubt would have caused the disappearance of those others, for they may have been driven mad and wandered off into the woods to a most gruesome death. How I wish I had been right, at least for my own sake.
For the boy, his energy could hardly be contained. He searched, poked, and prodded the entire area around and inside the cabin, searching for confirmation to some old tales around the area. I'd heard a few myself but didn't think much of any of them at that time. People disappear quite often in lonely woods such as these, though this mountain had its fill of missing hikers and woodsmen. I was able after much threatening to get the boy under control and set up many of my experiments around the cabin. I suggested we sleep in the cabin to escape the cold outside, but he insisted on sleeping beneath the stars.
After he made his bed outside I thought nothing of the boy, but in my turn examined the cabin. There was nothing unusual about the contents or materials which made up those small living quarters, something which disappointed me. As I said before, I wished to prove several theories and hoped to find some evidence of gaseous fumes rising from the earth or fissures breaking apart the rock foundation of the small structure.
Feeling not at all tired, for my mind was abuzz with the next day's experiments, I stood up and roamed about the cabin. A quick glance outside the open door told me the young lad was asleep, so I was quiet in my perusal of the walls and boards. Everything was touched, poked and prodded, and a discovery was made in the center of the floor when I tapped my feet upon the boards. The ground was not the hard rock I expected but sounded hollow to my ears.
Though the cabin and land were not mine to damage, I took a hammer and pried loose several of the boards. Much was my curiosity when my efforts revealed a large hole beneath the cabin floor. I retrieved my flashlight and shined my light down into the abyss, but I could see nothing but darkness.
Then to my confusion the darkness moved, shifted. I leaned forward thinking perhaps it was the trick of the light. Too late did I realize the shadows were alive, and they were most angry to have a light shone upon their existence.
I could hardly choke out a gasp when the thing burst up from the hole and rose high into the cabin. I scrambled back on my hands toward the door, my eyes ever on that towering wall of writhing shadows. I had hardly reached the threshold when several slimy arms shot out from the main body and wrapped themselves around my legs. Then I found voice as I flipped over onto my stomach and shouted at the boy. Great was my relief when I saw him jump up, but I couldn't get a grip on anything at hand and felt those tendrils dig into the skin of my legs.
It was a most horrid pain, as though the creature was burrowing itself into my very being. I kicked and squirmed, but it's grip was impossible to break. The boy with his flashlight in hand rushed over and grabbed my arms to pull me to safety. The light frightened the creature, for I felt its arms recoil and leave my skin.
By this time I could be excused from having a rational mind, and I fear the affects of the creature were already upon me. Those bits of itself embedded inside me crawled up my body, and my very muscles and veins absorbed that detestable thing into myself. I was hardly aware when the boy pulled me free from its grasp and dragged me to safety a distance from the cabin. I was in a wretched state by then, half delirious and wishing for an end to the pain in my legs. There was some idea in my head to cut off my legs, but another part of me, and I know now it was the creature, negated that thought and demanded I return to the cabin.
These two parts of my mind, one rational and one that thing, fought all that night and the next day when the boy brought me down off that accursed mountain. I was taken to his home and then given over to the property authorities. By this time my mind had deteriorated beyond reason, for my rational mind was trapped in this blubbering shell of a human body, ever fighting for control from the creature which had invaded my physical form.
They could think of nothing but to commit me to a local asylum, where even now I r
eside. I still have the scars from the cuts made by the creature, and pieces of that thing are buried deep in ever part of my body. I can feel the pulsing of the creature as it takes over my mind and demands I go to it. After this long month I feel myself weakening to the point where I can no longer deny the calling. I must escape from this place and return to the mountain. It is what is demanded of me and my fate for my curiosity. I must go!
That was the last bit of the final entry in the journal. Tony set it down in his lap and his mouth was agape in horror, but he did not disbelieve any part of the tale. Rather, his hands shook so badly he had trouble holding the book, for all his thoughts were on his own experience atop that mountain only the day before. Reading this entry from the professor, his worst fear was that he had read a version of his own future.
Tony was reeling from his finds, for he sat in the library for a good hour re-reading the final entry in Professor Ward's journal. The only questions that remained were what had happened to the professor and if the same fate awaited everyone who came in physical contact with the creature. Unfortunately the latter couldn't be answered until something did happen to Amanda and him. The former he had a chance of answering at the archives of the asylum.
Tony glanced around for the old librarian and, not seeing her, stuffed the journal into his bag. Such an ancient, thin tome would never be missed, and he had more need of it than any other patron of the library. Then Tony shouldered his bag and went outside. The dull day reflected his gloomy thoughts, for in his mind he kept going over the final words in the man's entry.
I must go!
That phrase tugged at his thoughts, and he feared these were the stirrings of the creature inside of him. He had a lot of trouble getting his heart to calm down and his hands to stop shaking when he gripped the wheel of his car. It was a short drive to the asylum on the outskirts of the small town, and he had no trouble spotting the short, dilapidated building which was once called the Archives office against the trees on the far side of the campus. He had a walk of a mile or so to the structure, and made sure to take his flashlight.
When Tony reached the building he wasn't pleased to see the dark woods so close at hand. They reminded him too much of the area that surrounded the cabin, and flashes of terrifying memories sped through his mind. However, he shook off the thoughts, for the faster he did this snooping deed than the faster he could forever leave this entire town behind.
The squat Archives office had bars on the square windows and a metal door stood in the entrance, but vandals long ago opened up the place for some fun. Stepping into the doorway, Tony flashed his light into the dark corners of the multiple rooms housed in the Archives. In front of him was a hallway which led all the way to the back of the building, and on both sides were doorways leading to separate offices. Windows lined these offices and looked out onto the main passage, and through the cracked and dusty glass he glimpsed old, rusted filing cabinets.
Tony stepped over debris and dry leaves, and made his way to the first room on the right. There were rows of filing cabinets in there, and he was glad to see the letters on the front were still visible. The files inside were arranged alphabetically, though he wasn't sure what kind of files were in these specific drawers. He searched until he found the W section, and then he gave a tug to pull open the drawer. A cloud of dust rose up out of the cabinet, and when the air cleared he was glad to see one of the first files had the name Ward, Alexander on the front.
The young man eagerly pulled out the file and flipped open to the first few pages. He was in luck, for the file contained all the personal information of their patient. Tony didn't understand everything that was written on the papers, especially those in cursive handwriting and faded beyond recognition.
Then he froze. He thought he heard a noise.
Tony turned his head toward the entrance to the room. There were also glass panes between the rooms, so he could see all the way down the hall to the end of the building. Nothing moved that he could see, but he swore he heard something shuffling along those dry leaves and fallen ceiling plaster. That's when he realized this place wasn't the safest spot to read the folder, for more than one reason. The first was the instability of the building, and the second was its close proximity to the woods. He had no idea how far the creature's reach extended, but he didn't want to find out.
Tony tightly gripped the folder and shined the beam of the flashlight ahead of him. Every shadow was an enemy now and every creak beneath his own feet startled him. He covered the few yards to the room's doorway and stuck his head out into the hall. He saw nothing for a moment until a slight movement at the end caught his attention. He directed the beam to that spot close to the other exterior door and squinted.
Then his eyes widened and he jerked back into the door frame. On the floor slithering its way in from the darkness of the woods close at hand were tendrils of the creature. In his eagerness to get to the opposite exit he stumbled over his own feet and fell to the floor. A cloud of dust puffed up all around him, but through the thick, choking fog he could see the black, oozing stretches of limbs meandering toward him. They crawled up onto the walls and cascaded through the cracks in the glass, covering everything that came within their path in their march toward him.
Tony cried out in fear and scrambled to his feet. He ran through the same door of the building he'd come in and out into the depressing but wonderful air of the open space. He didn't stop running until he was a good hundred yards from the building, and then, out of breath from the sprint, he ventured a glance over his shoulder. There was no sign of the creature, not even an errant shadow. He breathed a sigh of relief and then looked down at the faded folder in his hand. Maybe reading it in the park would be a safer place than in the confines of an abandoned building.
Tony went back to the area around the library and seated himself on one of the park tables. He was fortunate all the papers were clipped to the top of the folder because a slight wind was blowing, warning him the storm in the sky was threatening to come due within a few hours. He flipped through the medical reports regarding the patient, though some of the comments by the doctors showed what an extraordinary case they had on their hands. Most of the notes concerned the wounds on his legs which had healed at an impossible rate.
July 17th, 13:10 hours
The patient is responsive but difficult to deal with. He insists on rambling about his story with some creature up where the incident occurred, a notoriously dangerous cabin atop Arkham Mountain. The other doctors and myself have decided to humor him, for none of us have ever seen wounds such as his heal in such a short amount of time. The Allen family brought him in a week ago and already the wounds we noted have disappeared. The only remaining pieces of evidence for their existence are the pink color of the skin, the flexibility of the spots, and the patient's own complaints of pain in the area as though the wounds were old bruises.
Tony lifted his shaking hand and glanced over his own pink skin. His palm was still sore from his accident, so all that had occurred to him was the same as what happened to the professor. With this further confirmation of their similar incidents, Tony now only wanted to know what happened to the professor. His journal entry ended with his proclamation of escape, but not the outcome. The young man flipped through the notes tot he last page, where a long note was written.
August 12, 23:10 hours
This same report was filed with the police, but to complete the file a record of the happenings is herein placed.
The patient escaped our facilities a night ago and has not been seen since. None of us can fathom how he was able to break from his room except to say that the broken bars are a testament to a madman's strength. He left behind nothing save his journal we allowed him to keep in the hopes the past entries would revive his intelligent, sensible mind. There was a final entry which repeated the same insanity and told us where we could find him. The locals and many of the staff wouldn't venture to the mountain during the night, so only the grounds were covered
.
We found his footprints leading passed the Archives and into the woods in the direction of the mountain, but from there his trail was lost in the dense foliage. The entire town was alerted to his escape and instructed to remain indoors. Though he wasn't known to be violet, we believed him desperate enough to reach the mountain that he may have been willing to commit a crime or crimes in order to achieve his goal.
Fortunately the night passed without incident and the next morning the search was resumed. The hunting dogs we keep in case of such trouble found his scent and tracked him a great many miles until we reached the bottom of the mountain where began the trail to the cabin. The dogs refused to go any farther, but the dust was thick enough we were able to find his trail with our eyes. We followed the footprints to the cabin, where we fully expected to find the gentleman cowering in a corner mumbling to himself as he did in his room at the asylum.
However, while his tracks led inside the building there was no sign of the patient. The area had been cleared during the investigation a month ago, so no footsteps were visible along the boards. There was something of the unusual, though, which us as students of science but which caused the locals of the party some irrational fear. In the center of the room and seemingly from no place sat a piles of dirt which one first glance appeared to be pushed out from the ground beneath the cabin. However, we were firmly informed by the locals that there was only a large hole beneath the cabin, and the only way the dirt could have gotten pushed out from between the boards was if something burrowed its way up from the depths of the earth and spilled out into the cabin.