Project Rewrite: Dagon by H.P. Lovecraft

I am writing this under great mental pain, since by tonight I shall be no more. Penniless, and at the end of my supply of the drug which alone makes life endurable, I can bear the torture no longer; and shall cast myself from this attic window into the squalid street below. Do not think from my slavery to morphine that I am a weakling or a degenerate. When you have read these hastily scrawled pages you may guess, though never fully realise, why it is that I must have forgetfulness or death.

It was in one of the most open and least frequented parts of the broad Pacific that the ferry I worked on fell victim to the German sea-raider. The great war was then at its very beginning, and the ocean forces of Germany had not completely sunk to their later degradation; so that our vessel was made a legitimate prize, whilst we of her crew were treated with all the fairness and consideration due us as naval prisoners. So liberal, indeed, was the discipline of our captors, that five days after we were taken I managed to escape alone in a small boat with water and provisions for a good length of time.

When I finally found myself adrift and free, I had little idea of my surroundings. Never a competent navigator, I could only guess vaguely by the sun and stars that I was somewhat south of the equator. Of the longitude I knew nothing, and no island or coast-line was in sight. The weather kept fair, and for uncounted days I drifted aimlessly beneath the scorching sun; waiting either for some passing ship, or to be cast on the shores of some habitable land. But neither ship nor land appeared, and I began to despair in my solitude upon the heaving vastness of unbroken blue.

The change happened whilst I slept. Its details I shall never know; for my slumber, though troubled and dream-infested, was continuous. When at last I awoke, it was to discover myself half sunk into a slimy expanse of hellish black swamp which extended about me as far as I could see, and in which my boat lay grounded some distance away.

Though one might well imagine that my first sensation would be of wonder at so colossal and unexpected a transformation of scenery, I was in reality more horrified than astonished; for there was in the air and in the rotting soil a sinister quality which chilled me to the very core. The region was rotten with the carcasses of decaying fish, and of other less describable things which I saw protruding from the nasty mud of the unending plain. Perhaps I should not hope to convey in mere words the unutterable hideousness that can dwell in absolute silence and barren immensity. There was nothing within hearing, and nothing in sight save a vast reach of black slime; yet the very completeness of the stillness of the landscape oppressed me with a nauseating fear.

The sun was blazing down from a sky which seemed to me almost black in its cloudless cruelty; as though reflecting the inky marsh beneath my feet. As I crawled into the stranded boat I realised that only one theory could explain my position. Through some unprecedented volcanic upheaval, a portion of the ocean floor must have been thrown to the surface, exposing regions which for innumerable millions of years had lain hidden under unfathomable watery depths. So great was the extent of the new land which had risen beneath me, that I could not detect the faintest noise of the surging ocean, strain my ears as I might.

For several hours I sat thinking or brooding in the boat, which lay upon its side and afforded a slight shade as the sun moved across the heavens. As the day progressed, the ground lost some of its stickiness, and seemed likely to dry sufficiently for traveling purposes in a short time. That night I slept little, and the next day I made for myself a pack containing food and water, preparing for an overland journey in search of the vanished sea and possible rescue.

On the third morning I found the soil dry enough to walk upon with ease. The foul smell of the fish was maddening; but I was too concerned with graver things to mind so slight an evil, and set out boldly for an unknown goal. All day I forged steadily westward, guided by a far-away mound which rose higher than any other elevation on the rolling desert. That night I camped, and on the following day traveled still toward the mound, though that object seemed scarcely nearer than when I had first noticed it. By the fourth evening I reached the base of the mound, which turned out to be much higher than it had appeared from a distance. Too weary to ascend, I slept in the shadow of the hill.

I know not why my dreams were so wild that night; but before the waning and fantastically illuminated moon had risen far above the eastern plain, I was awake in a cold perspiration, determined to sleep no more. Such visions as I had experienced were too much for me to endure again. And in the glow of the moon I saw how unwise I had been to travel by day. Without the glare of the parching sun, my journey would have cost me less energy; indeed, I now felt quite able to perform the ascent which had deterred me at sunset. Picking up my pack, I started for the crest of the hill.

The unbroken monotony of the rolling plain had been a source of vague horror to me; but I think my horror was greater when I reached the summit of the mound and looked down the other side into an immeasurable pit or canyon, whose black recesses the moon had not yet soared high enough to illuminate. I felt myself on the edge of the world; peering over the rim into a fathomless chaos of eternal night. Through my terror ran curious reminiscences of Paradise Lost, and of Satan’s hideous climb through the formless realms of darkness.

As the moon climbed higher in the sky, I began to see that the slopes of the valley were not quite so perpendicular as I had imagined. Ledges and outcroppings of rock afforded fairly easy foot-holds for a descent, whilst after a drop of a few hundred feet, the slope became very gradual. Urged on by an impulse which I cannot explain, I scrambled with difficulty down the rocks and stood on the gentler slope beneath, gazing into the black depths where no light had penetrated.

All at once my attention was captured by a vast and singular object on the opposite slope, which rose steeply about a hundred yards ahead of me; an object that gleamed in the newly bestowed rays of the ascending moon. That it was merely a gigantic piece of stone, I soon assured myself; but I was conscious of a distinct impression that its contour and position were not altogether the work of Nature. A closer scrutiny filled me with sensations I cannot express; for despite its enormous magnitude, and its position in an abyss which had yawned at the bottom of the sea since the world was young, I perceived beyond a doubt that the strange object was a well-shaped monolith whose massive bulk had known the workmanship and perhaps the worship of living and thinking creatures.

Dazed and frightened, yet not without a certain thrill of the scientist’s or archaeologist’s delight, I examined my surroundings more closely. The moon, now near its zenith, shone weirdly and vividly above, and revealed the fact that a far-flung body of water flowed at the bottom, winding out of sight in both directions, and almost lapping my feet as I stood on the slope. Across the chasm, the waves washed the base of the ancient monolith; on whose surface I could now trace both inscriptions and crude sculptures. The writing was in a system of hieroglyphics unknown to me, and unlike anything I had ever seen in books; consisting for the most part of aquatic symbols such as fish, eels, octopi, crustaceans, mollusks, whales, and the like. Several characters obviously represented marine things which are unknown to the modern world, but whose decomposing forms I had observed on the ocean-risen plain.

It was the pictorial carving, however, that did most to hold me spellbound. Plainly visible across the intervening water on account of their enormous size, were an array of sculptures. I think that these things were supposed to depict men—at least, a certain sort of men; though the creatures were shown like fish in the waters of some marine grotto, or paying homage at some monolithic shrine which appeared to be under the waves as well. Of their faces and forms I dare not speak in detail; for the mere remembrance makes me grow faint. Grotesque beyond the imagination, they were damnably human in general outline despite webbed hands and feet, shockingly wide and flabby lips, glassy, bulging eyes, and other features less pleasant to recall. Curiously enough, they seemed to have been chiseled badly out of proportion with their scenic background; for one of the creatures was shown in the act of killing a whale represented as but little larger than himself. I remarked, as I say, their grotesqueness and strange size; but in a moment decided that they were merely the imaginary gods of some primitive fishing or seafaring tribe; some tribe whose last descendant had perished eras before the first ancestor of Man was born. Awestruck at this unexpected glimpse into a past beyond the conception of the most daring anthropologist, I stood musing whilst the moon cast queer reflections on the silent channel before me.

Then suddenly I saw it. With only a slight churning to mark its rise to the surface, the thing slid into view above the dark waters. Vast and loathsome, it darted like a stupendous monster of nightmares to the monolith, about which it flung its gigantic scaly arms, the while it bowed its hideous head and gave vent to certain measured sounds. I think I went mad then.

Of my frantic ascent of the slope and cliff, and of my delirious journey back to the stranded boat, I remember little. I believe I sang a great deal, and laughed oddly when I was unable to sing. I have indistinct recollections of a great storm some time after I reached the boat; at any rate, I know that I heard eruptions of thunder and other tones which Nature utters only in her wildest moods.

When I came out of the shadows I was in a San Francisco hospital; brought there by the captain of the American ship which had picked up my boat in mid-ocean. In my delirium I had said much, but found that my words had been given scant attention. Of any land upheaval in the Pacific, my rescuers knew nothing; nor did I deem it necessary to insist upon a thing which I knew they could not believe. Once I sought out a celebrated ethnologist, and amused him with peculiar questions regarding the ancient Philistine legend of Dagon, the Fish-God; but soon perceiving that he was hopelessly conventional, I did not press my inquiries.

It is at night, especially when the moon is luminous and waning, that I see the thing. I tried morphine; but the drug has given only transient rest, and has drawn me into its clutches as a hopeless slave. So now I am to end it all, having written a full account for the information or the contemptuous amusement of my fellow man. Often I ask myself if it could not all have been a pure phantasm—a mere freak of fever as I lay sun-stricken and raving in the open boat after my escape from the German man-of-war. This I ask myself, but ever does there come before me a hideously vivid vision in reply. I cannot think of the deep sea without shuddering at the nameless things that may at this very moment be crawling and floundering on its slimy bed, worshiping their ancient stone idols and carving their own detestable likenesses on submarine obelisks of water-soaked granite. I dream of a day when they may rise above the billows to drag down in their reeking talons the remnants of puny, war-exhausted mankind—of a day when the land shall sink, and the dark ocean floor shall ascend amidst universal pandemonium.

The end is near. I hear a noise at the door, as of some immense slippery body lumbering against it. It shall not find me. God, that hand! The window! The window!

Project Rewrite: The Beast in the Cave by H.P. Lovecraft

The horrible conclusion which had been gradually invading my confused and reluctant mind was now an awful certainty. I was lost, completely, hopelessly lost in the vast labyrinth of Mammoth Cave. Turn as I might, in no direction could my straining vision seize any object capable of serving as a guidepost to set me on the outward path. That never again would I behold the blessed light of day, or scan the pleasant hills and dales of the beautiful world outside. Hope had departed.

Nor did the thought that I had probably wandered beyond the utmost limits of an ordinary search cause me to abandon my composure even for a moment. If I must die, I reflected, then was this terrible yet majestic cavern as welcome a tomb as that which any churchyard might offer; a thought which carried with it more tranquility than despair.

Starving would prove my ultimate fate; of this I was certain. Some, I knew, had gone mad under circumstances such as these, but I felt that this end would not be mine. My disaster was the result of no fault save my own, since unbeknownst to the guide, I had separated myself from the regular party of sightseers; and, wandering for over an hour in forbidden avenues of the cave, had found myself unable to retrace the devious windings which I had pursued since forsaking my companions.

Already my torch had begun to expire; soon I would be enveloped by the total blackness of the pit of the earth. As I stood in the waning, unsteady light, I idly wondered over the exact circumstances of my coming end. I remembered the accounts which I had heard of the colony of the ill and sick, who, taking their residence in this gigantic grotto to find health from the apparently wholesome air of the underground world, with its steady, uniform temperature, pure air, and peaceful quiet, had found, instead, death in strange and ghastly form. I had seen the sad remains of their ill-made cottages as I passed them by with the party, and had wondered what unnatural influence a long stay in this immense and silent cavern would exert upon one as healthy and as vigorous as I. Now, I grimly told myself, my opportunity for settling this point had arrived, provided that want of food should not bring me too speedy a departure from this life.

As the last fitful rays of my torch faded into obscurity, I resolved to leave no stone unturned, no possible means of escape neglected; so summoning all the powers possessed by my lungs, I set up a series of loud shoutings, in the vain hope of attracting the attention of the guide by my clamor. Yet, as I called, I believed in my heart that my cries were to no purpose, and that my voice, magnified and reflected by the numberless ramparts of the black maze about me, fell upon no ears save my own. All at once, however, my attention was fixed with a start as I fancied that I heard the sound of soft approaching steps on the rocky floor of the cavern. Was my deliverance about to be accomplished so soon? Had, then, all my horrible apprehensions been for naught, and was the guide, having marked my unwarranted absence from the party, following my course and seeking me out in this limestone labyrinth? Whilst these joyful queries arose in my brain, I was on the point of renewing my cries, in order that my discovery might come the sooner, when in an instant my delight was turned to horror as I listened; for my ever acute ear, now sharpened in even greater degree by the complete silence of the cave, bore to my numb understanding the unexpected and dreadful knowledge that these footfalls were not like those of any mortal man. In the unearthly stillness of this subterranean region, the tread of the booted guide would have sounded like a series of sharp and incisive blows. These impacts were soft, and stealthy, as of the padded paws of some feline. Besides, at times, when I listened carefully, I seemed to trace the falls of four instead of two feet.

I was now convinced that I had attracted some wild beast, perhaps a mountain lion which had accidentally strayed within the cave. Perhaps, I considered, the Almighty had chosen for me a swifter and more merciful death than that of hunger. Yet the instinct of self-preservation, never wholly dormant, was stirred in my chest, and though escape from the oncoming peril might spare me for a sterner and more lingering end, I determined nevertheless to part with my life at as high a price as I could command. Strange as it may seem, my mind conceived of no intent on the part of the visitor but that of hostility. Accordingly, I became very quiet, in the hope that the unknown beast would, in the absence of a guiding sound, lose its direction as I had, and thus pass me by. But this hope was not destined for realisation, for the strange footfalls steadily advanced, the animal evidently having obtained my scent, which in an atmosphere so absolutely free from all distracting influences as the cave, could doubtless be followed at great distance.

Seeing therefore that I must be armed for defense against an uncanny and unseen attack in the dark, I grouped about me the largest of the fragments of rock which were upon all parts of the floor of the cavern in the vicinity, and, grasping one in each hand for immediate use, awaited with resignation the inevitable result. Meanwhile the hideous pattering of the paws drew near. Certainly, the conduct of the creature was exceedingly strange. Most of the time, the tread seemed to be that of a quadruped, walking with a singular lack of unison between hind and fore feet, yet at brief and infrequent intervals I thought that I heard two feet. I wondered what species of animal was to confront me; it must, I thought, be some unfortunate beast who had paid for its curiosity to investigate one of the entrances of the fearful grotto with a lifelong confinement in its endless recesses. It doubtless obtained as food the fish, bats, and rats of the cave. I occupied my terrible vigil with grotesque conjectures of what alterations cave life might have wrought in the physical structure of the beast, remembering the awful appearances described by local tradition of the sick who had died after long residence in the cavern. Then I remembered with a start that, even should I succeed in killing my antagonist, I should never behold its form, as my torch had long since been extinct, and I was entirely without matches. The tension on my brain now became frightful. My disordered mind conjured up hideous and fearsome shapes from the sinister darkness that surrounded me, and that actually seemed to press upon my body. Nearer, nearer, the dreadful footfalls approached. It seemed that I must give vent to a piercing scream, yet had I been sufficiently afraid to attempt such a thing, my voice could scarce have responded. I was petrified, rooted to the spot. I doubted if my right arm would allow me to hurl its missile at the oncoming thing when the crucial moment should arrive. Now the steady pat, pat, of the steps was close at hand; now, very close. I could hear the labored breathing of the animal, and terror-struck as I was, I realised that it must have come from a considerable distance, and was correspondingly fatigued. Suddenly the spell broke. My right hand, guided by my ever trustworthy sense of hearing, threw with full force the sharp-angled bit of limestone which it held, toward that point in the darkness from which emanated the breathing and pattering, and, wonderful to relate, it nearly reached its goal, for I heard the thing jump, landing at a distance away, where it seemed to pause.

Having readjusted my aim, I discharged my second missile, this time most effectively, for with a flood of joy I listened as the creature fell in what sounded like a complete collapse, and evidently remained prone and unmoving. Almost overpowered by the great relief which rushed over me, I reeled back against the wall. The breathing continued, in heavy, gasping breaths, once I realised that I had no more than wounded the creature. And now all desire to examine the thing ceased. At last something like groundless, superstitious, fear had entered my brain, and I did not approach the body, nor did I continue to cast stones at it in order to complete the extinction of its life. Instead, I ran at full speed in what was, as nearly as I could estimate in my frenzied condition, the direction from which I had come.

Suddenly I heard a sound, or rather, a regular succession of sounds. In another instant they had resolved themselves into a series of sharp, metallic clicks. This time there was no doubt. It was the guide. And then I shouted, yelled, screamed, even shrieked with joy as I beheld in the vaulted arches above the faint and glimmering effulgence which I knew to be the reflected light of an approaching torch. I ran to meet the flare, and before I could completely understand what had occurred, was lying upon the ground at the feet of the guide, embracing his boots, and gibbering, despite my boasted reserve, in a most meaningless and idiotic manner, pouring out my terrible story, and at the same time overwhelming my auditor with protestations of gratitude. At length I awoke to something like my normal consciousness. The guide had noted my absence upon the arrival of the party at the entrance of the cave, and had, from his own intuitive sense of direction, proceeded to make a thorough canvass of the by-passages just ahead of where he had last spoken to me, locating my whereabouts after a quest of about four hours.

By the time he had related this to me, I, emboldened by his torch and his company, began to reflect upon the strange beast which I had wounded but a short distance back in the darkness, and suggested that we find out for certain what manner of creature was my victim.

Accordingly I retraced my steps, this time with a courage born of companionship, to the scene of my terrible experience. Soon we caught sight of a white object upon the floor, an object whiter even than the gleaming limestone itself. Cautiously advancing, we gave vent to a simultaneous expression of wonderment, for of all the unnatural monsters either of us had in our lifetimes beheld, this was in surpassing degree the strangest. It appeared to be an anthropoid ape of large proportions, escaped, perhaps, from some traveling exhibit. Its hair was snow-white, a thing due no doubt to the bleaching action of a long existence within the inky confines of the cave, but the hair was also surprisingly thin, being indeed largely absent save on the head, where it was of such length and abundance that it fell over the shoulders in considerable profusion. The face was turned away from us, as the creature lay almost directly upon it. The inclination of the limbs was very singular, explaining, however, the alternation in their use which I had before noted, whereby the beast used sometimes all four, and on other occasions but two for its progress. From the tips of the fingers or toes, long nail-like claws extended. The hands were not prehensile, a fact that I attributed to that long residence in the cave which, as I before mentioned, seemed evident from the all-pervading and almost unearthly whiteness so characteristic of the whole anatomy.

The respiration had now grown very feeble, and the guide had drawn his pistol with the evident intent of dispatching the creature, when a sudden sound emitted by the latter caused the weapon to fall unused. The sound was of a nature difficult to describe. It was not like the normal note of any known species of simian, and I wondered if this unnatural quality were not the result of a long-continued and complete silence, broken by the sensations produced by the advent of the light, a thing which the beast could not have seen since its first entrance into the cave. The sound, which I might feebly attempt to classify as a kind of deep-toned chattering, was faintly continued. All at once a fleeting spasm of energy seemed to pass through the frame of the beast. The paws went through a convulsive motion, and the limbs contracted. With a jerk, the white body rolled over so that its face was turned in our direction. For a moment I was so struck with horror at the eyes thus revealed that I noted nothing else. They were black, those eyes, deep, jetty black, in hideous contrast to the snow-white hair and flesh. Like those of other cave denizens, they were deeply sunken in their orbits, and were entirely lacking an iris.

As we gazed upon the uncanny sight presented to us, the thick lips opened, and several sounds issued from them, after which the thing relaxed in death.

The guide clutched my coat-sleeve and trembled so violently that the light shook fitfully, casting weird, moving shadows on the walls about us.

I made no motion, but stood rigidly still, my horrified eyes fixed upon the floor ahead.

Then fear left, and wonder, awe, compassion, and reverence succeeded in its place, for the sounds uttered by the stricken figure that lay stretched out on the limestone had told us the awesome truth. The creature I had killed, the strange beast of the cave was, or had at one time been, a MAN!!!

And The Man Who Followed Her

My name is Jack Cutter. It’s been four years. Four years since me and my friends accidentally found a gateway to hell. Zack was corrupted and turned into a monster. Sarah was killed by whatever Zack became. Lucy was also changed by that place. But she managed to conquer it somehow.

Four years have passed, and in that time, I trained. Preparing to head back into that hell. Four years of training, one shotgun, three belts of ammunition and six loaded revolvers. Hope it’ll be enough.

So now I stand, in front of those rusted, iron gates again. Loaded to the teeth, about to head back into hell, chasing the girl I was never supposed to fall in love with.

There are three possibilities. Option one: Head down there, help Lucy finish things, get us both out of here. Option two: depending on what Lucy has become, I may have to put her down. Better for her to die than to become a demon. Option three: by far the most likely, I’ll die before I even reach her.

It’s quiet as I make my way towards the center of the park. It’s there that the jaws of hell open up and the long walk down begins. Whatever presence was here before, it isn’t now. Or at the very least, it’s busy elsewhere.

I find the entrance and make my way down. It’s steep. Steeper than I remember. I ready myself for what’s about to come. Not monsters or demons. Something worse.

There isn’t much left of Sarah’s body. Only her bones are left. She didn’t deserve this. I should have protected her. But I couldn’t. Hell, I couldn’t even protect myself. If it weren’t for Lucy, I wouldn’t even be alive.

But I don’t have time to grieve. I don’t have time to let it sink in. I’ll shed my tears for her. But not now.

I have to keep moving.

It doesn’t take more than a couple minutes for me to start seeing bodies. Hulking masses of red flesh, covered in horns and spikes. Demons. All of them sporting massive cuts across their bodies. So, she’s wielding some kind of enormous blade now. That’s the conclusion I come to anyway.

As I keep going, I hear the shrieks and screams of battle. They start off quiet, and slowly build until their sound fill my eardrums. And the smell. Blood and death; like iron and rancid meat. Not unexpected but nothing quite prepares you for it.

As the sounds and smells reach the height of their intensity, the path opens up to a massive, barren field. Nothing but cracked earth. Hundreds of bodies. I track her screams of violence and blood lust to the midnight skies above. And there she is.

The first thing to notice, is the weapon she’s using. It’s something between a great-sword and a scythe. There are several demons up there with her. she’s using her immense strength and the momentum of her swings to keep them all airborne. One by one, she sends them crashing to the ground like meteors.

Then she comes crashing down herself.

She’s different. Very different. Black wisps of smoke cling to her body, like before. Cracks in her skin glow like fire and slowly chip away at her humanity. Her eyes dance in flashes of yellow and orange.

“I knew you’d be back” She says.

Her voice doesn’t sound quite the same. It’s dark and smoky but there’s a smoothness to it. Almost seductive. It puts me on edge.

“Let’s go home, Lucy.”

She laughs. It’s loud and dark and maniacal. It’s so deep and booming that it comes off as unnatural.

She’s not coming back. She wants my help killing whatever thing rules here. There’s no reason for me to. But there never had to be with her. She could always wrap people around her finger, with little more than a glance.

There had always been a danger to her. It was intoxicating. But it was different now. It was like the difference between a beer and a fifth of vodka.

This is going to be the death of me. To be honest though, I always thought she would be. It was strange. It was like all the danger that had been Lucy was still there. But something else had used it as fertile soil, risen up through the dirt, and taken over. Like an ivy or weed or something. I don’t know plants.

I wasn’t surprised by what happened. This was Lucy taken to the furthest extreme. There was no demon lord. Lucy had defeated him long ago. But Lucy was a demon herself now. And she wanted my help to get back into the human world to spread her chaos.

Hardly a surprise, right?

On the way to the throne room, which was hers by the way, we were swarmed by demons. That she had summoned. I didn’t pay attention at the time but she didn’t lift a finger the entire time. She wanted to test me. I didn’t touch my shotgun but I expended all of the pistols.

They were tough bastards but absolutely possible to kill. They were inhumanly strong but they were clumsy. Everything they did, they put all their power into. Made them easy to dodge.

When we were done, or when I was done rather, Lucy smiled me. That smile will haunt me until the day I die. Which probably won’t be long, to be honest. The throne room is up ahead, and I have an uneasy feeling in my chest.

And this is where our story ends. Lucy sits on her throne, legs crossed looking at me like a plaything. She already knows my answer. She knew before I ever even came down here. For all I know, she knew four years ago, when she saved my life.

I know what this is really about.

She just got fucking bored. That’s all. For all that made her interesting, her motives were never hard to figure out. I load the first shell with a satisfying pump.

She’s bored? Well, she’s in luck then. I am tonight’s entertainment. It’ll be a hell of a show. Buy your tickets now, it’s to die for.

The Girl Who Walked Straight Into Hell

An old, abandoned amusement park on the edge of a nowhere town. Rusted roller coasters and empty stalls. Impossible to resist for a group of reckless teenagers. Jack and his friends have decided to stay the night. They know not the hell that awaits them.

A brief introduction. Jack. A man with more questions than answers. An unfortunate affliction that often leads to misery. Zack. A man of manipulation and deceit, unable to see the value of human lives. Sarah. A rather innocent girl, and always by Jack’s side. She is highly dependent on others, Jack in particular. Lucy. One who knows no boundaries, only the thrill of excitement. She is fickle, both cruel and kind.

Four friends enter into the dreaded labyrinth. As they enter, the gates shut behind them and a light fog settles over the park. An eerie presence follows their every footstep.

It seems mundane enough. It’s old and dying but nothing more than that. They follow the path laid out for them and it leads them to their first step down a dark path.

A gradual decline. It is unclear how far down it goes. As they move further in, the park slopes further and further into a dark abyss. As they move deeper into it, the fog lifts. Taking its place, an ominous, red glow. Like fire. A dark force creeps its way into their minds.

Zack and Lucy are unaware of the change, detached from reality as they are. Unhinged, you might say. Jack and Sarah, on the other hand, are both susceptible to the madness of this place, holding each other tightly. Jack’s curious and open mind leaves the door wide open to the influence of such a place. Sarah, pure and innocent, has no defense. Every step of her life, she has been shielded from evil. And here it will be her undoing.

She and Jack have been friends their whole life. And while Jack slowly changed over the course of time, as all do, he has always shielded her from the world. She is as defenseless as a child. And it is all Jack’s doing, for better or worse.

Lucy’s eagerness for adventure opens her up to the influence of this place. She is too excited. Her pace quickens, and soon is enveloped by the park, beyond the range of visibility. Something prevents Jack from calling out to her. Something Jack is all too familiar with.

Fear. A force Jack has yet to conquer. All his life, he has survived with quick thinking and a clever mind. Both of which are useless in this place. He must overcome his weakness, or face the consequences.

Zack too, has been taken in. In stark contrast to Jack, Zack has no fear. He never had. And this makes him a perfect conduit. Zack the person slowly fades away, as evil floods his body.

Zack was often accused of not being human. He cared for nothing but his own amusement, often at the pain of others. But he was never one to get his hands dirty. A man of manipulation and no regret. And now he has paid the ultimate price for it.

Now there is no Zack. Just a thing that resembles him. A punishment fitting his crimes. He lived his whole life without empathy, without compassion. So now he has nothing. He is nothing.

Jack and Sarah walk just a few paces ahead. They are unaware that evil eyes that once belonged to Zack, are glaring into them. Shrill howls and shrieks surround them. Otherworldly monsters beyond the barriers of the park. Just what is this place?

Jack and Sarah’s panic increases, as Zack’s pace quickens.

Unexpected. Sarah is thrown to the ground. Dark, smoky hands wrap tightly around her throat. Jack attempts to stop him but is immediately dealt with. His strength is unreal, amplified by dark influence, and attempts to fight back are meaningless.

A lifeless corpse is all that remains of Sarah. The thing that was Zack turns its gaze on Jack. Jack makes his peace with what’s about to happen. Sarah was gone anyway, he figures. But if anyone is going to kill Jack, it isn’t going to be Zack, no matter what force possesses him.

Jack and Lucy had a strange relationship. Jack and Sarah’s was as simple as they come. A perfect couple without problems, a fairy tale. Perhaps that’s why.

Like a moth to flame, Jack had always been drawn to Lucy. Wild, untamed, dangerous. For Lucy, the line between love and hate was near nonexistent. In equal measure, she tore him down and built him back up. It was at times, a terrifying display, like a great wolf playing with its food.

And Jack loved every minute of it.

Like a monstrous beast, Lucy charges in out of the abyss. Strong as the darkness had made Zack, it is nothing compared to Lucy. She had always been wild, but this is something else entirely. She tears him limb from limb. Like a savage animal. In truth, this is what she’s always been. An monster locked in a cage. Now the door has been unlocked, and the key thrown away.

You couldn’t call it a match or even a fight. The second Lucy charged in, it was over. See, Lucy may have been hard to deal with, but she had one thing most people, and especially Zack, didn’t. Loyalty.

The thing that was Zack now lies dead. Lucy helps Jack to his feet. Dark smoke rises from Lucy’s body. Zack and Lucy were both consumed by the darkness. But the thing about Lucy. No one told her what to do. Ever.

There’s still further down to go. For all they know, the park keeps going down, straight into hell itself. Jack decides to head back to the surface. He’s had enough. Sarah’s death was far more than he was prepared for. But Lucy? She’s staying.

The Man Who Vanished For Fifty Years

Robert: How does it feel to be fifty years in the future, Jack?

Jack: It’s strange. Very strange.

Robert: Should we just jump straight into this thing, then?

Jack: Sure. Where should we begin?

Robert: Well, at the beginning, naturally.

Jack: It began in a bar, oddly enough. It was called The End of the Road. Don’t know if it still exists anymore.

Robert: Can’t say I know. We can look into it later, if you like.

Jack: It’d be nice to know. Anyway, I’d had a couple beers and I was waiting for the gang I was a part of to show up, starting with my partner.

Robert: What was the gang called?

Jack: The Hollow Hearts. Truth be told, gang was a pretty strong word for it. We were kinda just a group of friends who watched each other’s backs. We were an odd bunch.

Robert: You mentioned your partner a minute ago.

Jack: Sarah. She was a real sweet gal.

Robert: What did she look like?

Jack: Blonde hair, freckles, glasses, and a worn biker jacket she always wore.

Robert: Was she a looker?

Jack: I thought so. We made a good pair. Always got into trouble together.

Robert: Were you two involved in any kind of romantic way?

Jack: No, not really. I mean we liked each other but... I don’t know, we just never did.

Robert: So who else was in this gang of yours?

Jack: Well, there was Rick and Andrew for starters.

Robert: And what were they like?

Jack: They were a few years older than us. Once Sarah and I joined, they got to move up the ranks a little bit. Rick was a wild guy, to say the least. He was my best friend. Always had my back and was the kind of guy with enough muscle to not need to use it.

Robert: What about this Andrew fella?

Jack: He was a very by-the-book kinda guy. Never smiled. He thought it was his job to keep everyone out of trouble. Rick and Andrew had been close at one point, but they had a falling out around the time Sarah and I joined. Never found out what it was about though.

Robert: Your gang had some kind of leader, I take it.

Jack: That would be Charles. He was a great man. He was everything you’d expect a leader to be. He was intelligent, charismatic, and he always had a plan.

Robert: So, there were five of you.

Jack: We were the core of the group, but there were others. They just had a bit more autonomy than we did. We followed orders directly from Charles.

Robert: Sounds a bit military, if you ask me.

Jack: I think that was how he saw himself. I don’t think he was ever in the military. He certainly would have fit in there, though.

Robert: So, who else was there?

Jack: Let’s see, there was Luke. He was pretty similar to Charles but kinda came off as a bit of a cheap knockoff. He was too cocky and didn’t have the same control that Charles did. Luke often took Rick on jobs with him. I think he liked having extra muscle around. They spent most of their time dealing with people who caused us trouble.

Robert: And by that you mean-

Jack: Luke would try to reason with them and if that failed, Rick beat the shit out of them.

Robert: Ah, so-

Jack: Then there was Viktor. He spent most of his time reading. You wouldn’t think that would have been super useful but sometimes he knew exactly the right thing to help us out of a tough spot. There was also Alexis, who was kinda known for just being a total bitch. She was also brought on for a lot of Luke’s jobs.

Robert: Is that everyone?

Jack: Not quite. Last guy was a man named Zack. He was a sharp guy and liked to turn your words around on ya. Sometimes Sarah would go and play her guitar in some crowded area and Zack would accompany her. He liked to listen to her play and make sure she didn’t get into trouble. In general, he was a sarcastic con man who spent a lot of time gambling. He was quite good at it too.

Robert: So, we’ve got all the characters together. What now?

Jack: We’d been unusually successful for the last month or so. So Charles was gonna throw us a little party. There was an old, abandoned school on the outskirts of town. The plan was to spend the night there and drink a lot.

Robert: Why an abandoned school of all places?

Jack: That was just who we were. We didn’t really care for the rest of the world. The isolation of places like that was perfect for us. You ever leave town for a night just to be somewhere else?

Robert: Sure.

Jack: It was a bit like that.

Robert: I suppose I can get behind that. So, you’re on your way to the party.

Jack: Yeah, and people started to group together with the people they liked the best. Me, Sarah, and Rick walked together just like always.

Robert: The three of you were pretty close then.

Jack: Yeah. I miss them a lot. Even with everything that happened.

Robert: Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, kid.

Jack: You realize I’m older than you, right?

Robert: Then why do you look like a twenty something?

Jack: Couldn’t tell ya.

Robert: Why don’t we get back on track.

Jack: Fine. Let’s see, Charles was followed, as always, by Zack and Andrew.

Robert: What’s up there?

Jack: So, Zack was like Charles’ second in command. Charles regarded him very highly. But Andrew was a ladder climber by nature. And he needed to be that second in command guy. I know that had a little bit to do with his falling out with Rick.

Robert: Sounds like politics. Who else stuck together?

Jack: Luke and Alexis. They were definitely a thing but absolutely didn’t think anyone knew. We did.

Robert: And what about the mysterious Viktor?

Jack: Viktor stuck to himself, head in his book. He didn’t seem to have anything in common with us, but maybe that was it.

Robert: What do you mean?

Jack: Maybe he just liked being alone with us.

Robert: I think I see what you mean. I think.

Jack: I dunno, man. He didn’t want to socialize but he didn’t want to be truly alone either.

Robert: So, you guys make it to the school.

Jack: Things went normally enough. We all loved to drink-

Robert: Doesn’t everyone?

Jack: It didn’t take everyone very long to get completely plastered.

Robert: Sorry about that.

Jack: Can I continue?

Robert: Go for it.

Jack: So, Luke and Alexis left the party early to find a room to be alone. No one was surprised. But that was the last time we saw them.

Robert: Anything you want to say about them?

Jack: You know, I never really liked them very much. But they changed my mind just a few weeks before their disappearance.

Robert: How’d they do that?

Jack: One day, I wandered into the bar and they were the only ones there. They’d been drinking. A lot. I sat as far away from them as possible. They kept trying to get my attention but I just kept ignoring them.

Robert: Doesn’t sound like anything special.

Jack: After a while, they came over to where I was sitting and pulled up a couple chairs. It was pretty out of character for them. Maybe they were just that drunk. They bought me a drink and we started talking.

Robert: What about?

Jack: I’m getting there. Eventually, the conversation turned to their upbringing and, well, why they were the way that they were. Luke and Alexis had both grown up in violent neighborhoods. Beating after beating after beating. Eventually, they had had enough. Luke learned that if he turned his aggressors against each other, then they left him alone. For a little while, at least. Alexis learned that if she got angry enough and shouted loud enough, she could get people so afraid that they wouldn’t even look at her.

Robert: Wow.

Jack: Apparently, Rick’s story was similar. They wouldn’t tell me anything. Said it wasn’t their place. I asked him about it later but he never wanted to talk about it.

Robert: And so ends the tale of Luke and Alexis, huh?

Jack: Yeah. Yeah, it does.

Robert: Do you want to continue? We can take a break if you need to.

Jack: No, I’m fine.

Robert: Let’s continue then.

Jack: After a while, we realized that no one had seen them for hours. Charles wanted us to search for them. We searched the whole building and couldn’t find a single trace of them. At that point, Charles ordered the search outside.

Robert: Sound like he was worried.

Jack: If they had just decided to go off on their own for the night, he was fine with that. He just wanted to make sure they were safe.

Robert: What a guy.

Jack: We never made it outside though.

Robert: What? Wait, what do you mean?

Jack: The doors wouldn’t move. They weren’t locked. They just wouldn’t move. It was as if there was a wall of concrete behind them. Next we tried the windows. Nothing we could do would open them. Nothing we could do would break them. We were trapped.

Robert: Talk about unnerving.

Jack: If you think that’s unnerving...

Robert: Go on.

Jack: I looked out those windows. There was nothing outside. It was just dark. And you think you know what dark is. But I’m telling you, you could not make out the faintest outline of an object. It was just empty darkness. At that point, I don’t think we existed anymore.

Robert: What do you mean by that?

Jack: I dunno. Like, we had left reality. Nothingness had captured us and taken us somewhere else. Obviously we were still breathing, but I don’t think we existed anymore.

Robert: Why don’t we move on...

Jack: It’s hard to grasp, isn’t it?

Robert: Yeah...

Jack: Try fifty years of that. It’ll drive you crazy.

Robert: I can imagine.

Jack: No. You can’t.

Robert: Let’s continue.

Jack: Rick started to lose his shit. Which meant that Andrew went into lecture mode. They had a very annoying argument. But then Viktor spoke up. And when Viktor spoke up. You listened.

Robert: When a man barely speaks, it makes you take pause when he does, doesn’t it?

Jack: Viktor was an odd guy. He liked to keep to himself mostly. From time to time though, he would come find me and take my hostage for the day. I think he saw me as a kind of student. He would just spend the whole day teaching me shit.

Robert: Did you enjoy his company or was it miserable?

Jack: I enjoyed it at the time. But I miss those days terribly now.

Robert: You can keep going, if you want.

Jack: Sometimes we’d go meet up with Zack when Viktor had his fill for the day. Zack wasn’t a very emotional man, but he always took care of us when he brought us on jobs with him. That quick tongue of his saved our lives.

Robert: I almost wish I’d known these people. They sound like good folk.

Jack: They were. One of the best nights was when Zack taught me, Sarah, and Viktor to play poker. We lost miserably. But Zack wasn’t as much of an asshole as people liked to paint him. He always told us that we played well.

Robert: Zack and Viktor. They disappeared next, didn’t they?

Jack: Yeah. Rick lost his shit even more. He didn’t handle panic well.

Robert: I’m getting that sense about him.

Jack: Charles took control though. You gotta understand, that school was very old. So it had some odd things in it compared to even the schools at that time. Charles planned to capitalize on that.

Robert: And what does that mean?

Jack: While we were searching for Luke and Alexis, Charles had spotted a room with a fireplace. We moved quietly and slowly. We used broken chairs and paper to start the fire. Everyone sat down to rest for a moment. We were very, very sober by that point.

Robert: Yeah, I’ll bet.

Jack: We sat in darkness for a few hours. No one said very much. And before I knew it I fell asleep.

Robert: Who disappears this time?

Jack: Charles.

Robert: Oh. Shit.

Jack: By that point it was all over. All hell broke loose.

Robert: What happened?

Jack: The first thing I noticed was Sarah. At some point, she had come over next to me. She was sleeping on my shoulder.

Robert: Cute.

Jack: Rick and Andrew were shouting. It didn’t go well.

Robert: How do you mean?

Jack: It started with a punch. It ended with Andrew’s face in the fire. Then they both disappeared.

Robert: I don’t even know what to say.

Jack: And you weren’t even there.

Robert: So is that the end?

Jack: Almost. Somehow Sarah was still asleep.

Robert: Heavy sleeper.

Jack: You have no idea, dude. I knew we didn’t have much time. So I just held her. And waited.

Robert: Where did you go?

Jack: I don’t know.

Robert: Where did she go?

Jack: I don’t know.

Robert: What was it like?

Jack: Remember that darkness I described?

Robert: Yeah.

Jack: That. For fifty. Fucking. Years.