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Horror From The Stars
By Ian Macmillan
I. The Stone Tablet.
So here I begin my gruesome tale, the exploits of our discoveries and the final effects on us all, ending in the death of two of my friends. Now it all began say a summer ago, under the grave firestorm of the sun, while my good mate Eric Gillum and I were perusing along in our typical fashion across the meadow outside our residence. We both were schoolmates, and we grew up relatively close to each other, so we corroborated on an dwelling, so that we may not starve alone. The sky was clear, blue and beautiful as we strode, myself smoking a cigarette, through the knee-high grass. Eric and I would usually just stroll discussing extraordinary theories and the reason behind life, brooding what to make of our existence. We also tended to traverse these fields many a time on psychedelics, and such. This day was any normal summer day, the blistering orb of sweltering hot flame hung at high noon, and not a single cloud was in vision; it was a perpetuity of azure. We always walked east of the house, which was a good two or three miles from town, to the edge of Darbin woods, and then back. But today was unlike any other. When we reached the thicket of oak, maple, and cedar, I noticed a small discrepancy. There were anomalous markings in the soil, that of something being dragged through the trees. I would have normally overlooked such a thing, but the small ring that sat on the path sparked in me the deepest curiosity. I moved ahead first, with Eric tagging behind me; I could tell that he was a bit uneasy. Regardless we pressed on, walking, and following the trail. It finally ended, opening up into a clearing, with a gaping hole through the forest canopy. The ball of flames shone directly through the mouth, and I would infer that the moon did the same. In the center of the clearing rested a heap of dirt, adorned by a small stone tablet, and a miniature figurine mounted atop the book. Eric immediately went for the tablet, most likely to see if it was anything worth taking back with us. With great ease, he lifted the tablet. And in that instant I felt as if evil blackened eyes were scrutinizing us. I spun my skull around in panic to see if I could spot our apparently invisible spotters. Eric came up to me with the tablet and fetish; they both seemed to pulsate with some deathly and primeval aura that put an arctic grasp upon my spine. The tablet and idol were lightly covered in a green moss, and of excellent craftsmanship. I told him that I am unsure about this, but he insists that it is nothing. "Alright.." I mumbled to him.
We used the same method to return to the paddock that we used to get to the clearing, but now it was covered with our footsteps. By the time we made it to our cottage, it was near sunset. We both went inside and washed up to prepare for supper. After we ate, we both sat down by the hearth and took turns investigating the tablet, the unfathomable runes and markings indecipherably scrawled upon the visage of the tablet, and the depraved form of a creature that was the idol. The beast resembled the head and torso of a man, with arms that ended in claws, and the legs ending in talons, like those of a great hawk. The man's face was rotten, with jagged, spiky teeth. The nose was missing and the eyes were two black coals of onyx. The material that the tablet and idol were crafted from was unidentifiable, even with Eric being the son of a mineralogist.
II. The Visitor
A bit after the clock struck midnight, a rustling of grass blew past my ears. It came from outside the east window. I assumed it was nothing, since there are all sorts of animals that frequent the meadows, but then I heard the distinct sound of shoes hitting dirt. Fearing for the worst, I alerted Eric quietly, and I entered our room, where I kept my revolver. I made sure the firearm was loaded, and stepped to porthole to greet the bandit. I saw a tall, black, and ghastly shadowed outline; apparently it's back facing me. In an instant, Eric pried the revolver from my hand, and began firing at the ghoul. He unloaded all but the last round; that was when the creature let forth such a dreadful and hideous holler that no man could have voiced it. It shattered through my eardrums like a boulder tossed through glass. The fiend leapt away, heading east, across the meadow, dematerializing into the night. Where it came from, was at the time, an ambiguous to me. Eric elected that one of us stay awake the night lest the interloper decides to return. I convinced him to stay awake since he was so apt with the gun. So we took our shifts and we both received a decent rest, considering the events that took place the night before. In the morning I went outside to fetch some aqua from the water pump. A pool of blood saturated the ground, and there was a new path through the lofty pasture. It looked as if something had clawed it out, and did so in great alacrity. The trail was dotted with the dry black blood. The intruder left quite a trail. So we set out, Eric with the pistol and me with a blade. By the time we reached the end of the roughly hewn path, the blood began to thin out, until we reached the edge of the woods where the blood trail stopped completely. But that was not it. Where we had previously walked the other day, were oversized claw-like footprints.
The trees that rested around the prints were hideously scarred with scratch marks, as if a colossal bear was having a fit of psychosis. We trek to the creepy mound where we recovered the tablet. The clearing was there, but the sun hung low, ready to divide into the night. The mound of dirt was now flat, but it looked as if it had been dug up, and then poorly re-covered. On the ground, in the shape of a circle directly around the mound, were beams of sunlight that shone through the boughs. And I recalled last night, when we were examining the idol, those peculiar markings...well they now lay in front of us. After some discussion, we both agree to come here tomorrow and dig the site to see what is beneath the mound of soil. We make an about face, and head back to the wide-open pasture. When were reached the edge of the wood, in front of us stood a tall figure.
III. The Laboratory
In front of us towered a tall, skeletal, and pale man, with fair blond hair and ashen gray eyes, rounded by thin-rimmed black spectacles; he wore an ivory overcoat, and underneath it was a plain black outfit. He addressed us as to what our business here in the woods. I informed him that it was quite rude to demand such things without first introducing ones self. The man quickly apologized, and declared that his name was Doctor Grey Morbian, and he came to the woods to locate a possession of his that was stolen from his laboratory. Eric, at first, began to tell a lie, but I butted in and reviled that were followed the trail of blood from our house. Dr. Morbian then began to explain that he previously worked at a mental institution with a close friend of his, where they conducted some rather macabre experiments on select patients; ones who were deemed possessed by a demon. But in the end, their work lead him to some very unethical practices, and they were asked to leave or be arrested. Obviously, they elected to depart. The object that he so desired was stolen by one of their patients, who then took flight through the woods. The description he gave of the artifact clearly depicted the heinous device that we found in the clearing. After that, he began the explain the true nature of his experiments, and how he created several complex chemical compounds to eject the devils from ones body; since the demons were brought there in the first place by alternate compounds. This also led to massive seizures, internal bleedings, stroke, a full system shock, and even more common...death. He also worked with a man who was proficient in contacting demons, but that man was slain in the escape. He lifts up his right sleeve to show a rather large scar running from wrist to his bicep, which he also suffered in the assault.
I could notice a hint of suspicion in my friend's eyes, but I could see many practical reasons behind this man's malady. He then offered a tour of his laboratory, for us being so considerate. My friend being a tab bit perturbed again began to speak but no words came past his lips. I agreed with Dr. Morbian, for what have I to lose. We then proceeded to the road, a few hundred yards from the torn, blood trail, to where his automobile waited, patiently. By the time we reached our destination, and old derelict barn house, it was already twilight. The man warned us not to utter a word to anyone, lest his practices were discovered, for many of his work was deemed illegal. I assured him that his secret was safe with us. So we entered, and what I saw stole the warmth from the blood in my veins. The barn was nigh on pitch black, save for a few lanterns that provided a dim illumination. A long rectangular counter ran down the center of the room, topped with a variety of vials of sparkling chemicals, containers of unidentified species floating in some green-glowing ooze, and several books, all with arcane and indecipherable titles. Opposite the long table are assorted shelves, each bearing abnormal skulls, and several voodooists nick knacks. In one corner of the barn was a flight of stairs that led down to an underground room of some sort. At the end of the testing table, was an examination table, with a silver tray on top of it. The tray bore multiple surgical devices, such as scalpels, shears, forceps, and clamps, all wreathed in rust and blood. Among the instruments of torture was a syringe filled with a pulsating solution. The man sat us down and pulled out a chalkboard from the shadows. On it were many alien markings, and symbols similar to those inscribed on the tablet. Through the next hour or so, Dr. Morbian explained his theories in full, and his belief that even after death a demon can possess ones flesh and body. He also noted that a demon can be tied to an object, and that the entity will seek the object regardless of life, or barriers. I do not believe in fate or any of that destiny rubbish, but in this instant I felt as if I was supposed to be here. After much discussion, Dr. Morbian suggested that we leave, for it was getting rather late. And kindly, the man gave us a ride back to our home in his automobile. He also warned us never to return to the woods, for they are dangerous and only a fool would tread there. The doctor then quickly speed away leaving us a few feet from our front door.
IV. Eerie Light
We arrived through the gate, and up the steps the front door was blasted off the hinges, and flung across the room, and in it were cavernous markings, as if the door had been axed. Our living quarters had been ransacked. There were objects tossed in chaos, and furniture broken into splinters. Our books were torn and beds shredded into feathers. Not only hath we been robbed, but we hath been vandalized too. There were deep scratching on the floor, as if a madman was trying to dg his own grave. Of all of our things, the only thing missing was the tablet and idol. We search nigh and low for it, but nothing, just shadows and destruction. I ran outside to see if there was any evidence, or another trail. Luckily, we still carried our weapons. Off far in the distance, to the east, beyond the meadow, and in the forest came an eerie green light; it shined off fairly bright for such a distance. The light sent some wicked and selpachurcal feelings, perplexing my mind into utter lunacy. All I can contemplate is death for the unlucky fool who trespassed our quarters. In instinct, and of rage, we both dashed for the forest. The emerald light, so demonic and alien cloaked the air like a thick mist. Its tendrils whipped across my face, green and unholy. And the towering dark green trees that engulfed the sky, we ran twixt the boughs, to the desecrated mound, were the table was procured. The moon was high, alight in the misty light. We reached the clearing, were stood the mound of dirt. The grave was undone; all the dirt to the side. But the queerest thing was the circle of light, and the floating green flame that defiled the night. We quivered with fright, with horrible hatred, infuriated with ghoulish desire. I raise the pistol, and then cock the hammer, but from the air trembled an echo. A blast of wind came with the voice, and it concaved in, and hammered out ears. And what it spoke I do not know, for I could not understand; but it was as if my mind had almost collapsed, as if it was almost beaten out. My companion, Eric, feel to the ground, writhing in agony. I spit out blood, and grasp my chest, but a dark hand grasps my flesh. I turn my head, from the pounding green blaze, and I spy the strange old man who was so humble. He utter two words, "Let's Go!", but I grasped for my friend, and hoisted him by his belt. The doctor tugged at my sleeve, but then helped me carry my companion. And we dashed, as fast as we could make do, in the greatest of haste, to escapes the olive cinders. We mad the break, out of the wood, but his car was destroyed. It was again the horrid claw markings that marred the trees, the ones that torn asunder our abode.
The figure was not there, but the damage was done. We had no choice we had to run. He mentions that he wants us to come to the lab. It is about two miles from here. The walk is tedious, and treacherous. As if for a time without end, we walked, myself carrying my companion, Eric.
V. The Cellar
As we finally arrived from our voyage, we reach the red, decaying barn. The inside was as our house, glass smashed and notebooks torn. Dr. Morbian said that he returned just in time to catch one of the lanterns breaking, about to set the place ablaze. It was a swell thing that he had a washbasin on hand. He pushed the mess aside, and we lay my friend down on the rectangular table. The doctor uses his stethoscope to pinpoint a pulse. He notifies me that my friend is merely in shock, and will be fine, just in a deep sleep for a time. The doctor then begins to explain that he omitted a few facts when we first met. He told me that in the cellar of this barn, his friend, Doctor Edward Crane, conducted rituals to summon the demons. Crane's fascination with diabolism was pure and utter, and he delved in many a dark art. Morbian was the most scientific of the pair, specializing in the chemical nature of demonic possession. So to test their outrageous and malicious theory Crane actually summon demons, and presented them mental patients as vessels. It all started one night, when they were both in Derbhom University. They were out walking, on the edge of the woods by their campus, when they both espied a bizarre path. They usually took walks around here when the time permitted it, and they had never noticed the path before; but this path was different. It was impure, and obscure…it didn't look man made. So they were curious, and the followed the arcane passage, until it opened into a clearing. In the clearing was a small green fire. It was not bound to wood, or lamp, but it mysteriously floated on the air. The flame then became mist, and then into the form of a man. The misty figure spoke in a bizarre tongue, and it proceeded to continue, as if they could understand it. Then the being chanted the phrase, "Innoctur Egrid". As it repeated this saying, a beam of black shadows shot down from the heavens. The mist disappeared and so did the shadows, and it was then dawn. In the figures place, rested an ancient tablet, attached to it was an obscure idol, that radiated with a spectral throb. The doctor rifled through his pockets for a handkerchief, and wiped the profuse beading bullets of sweat that trickled down his brow. He shuttered, and took a second to compose himself. I looked behind me at my unconscious companion, his breathing returning to normal.
Dr. Morbian pulled himself out of his chair, and went towards the steps, and he motions for me to come with him. I reluctantly agreed, and walked down the stairs with him. I made sure I had my revolver. At the base of the steps, directly to the left, was a heavy iron door, with triple padlocks, and a wooden bar across the doors; it was as if somebody was telling us to keep out. After solving the puzzle, he slides open the door. A blast of disgusting wind howls from the mouth of the door, reeking with the scent of feces and putrefied flesh. In the distance I hear the buzzing of flies, and the scampering of rodents, which toiled in the shadows like rouges. The doctor lights a lantern, and then beckons for me to follow. He goes first, walking through the stone passages of the underdark that brimmed with a vile fear and ghastliness. We reached a second door, which was less barred than the first; it had a simple turn lock. He turned to me and looked with a mixed message of fear and desperation, and then guilt. He unveiled the portal, which opened into a large granite room. It was pitch dark, save for the ill light provided by the lantern; as if the darkness in here was trying to choke the flame. An eerie breeze flows in here, and the stench of death is strong and in the atmosphere. Morbian went to a few spots in the room, and lit some torches in those places. Now the darkness recedes, and in the foreground of the room is a vile fountain, filled with dead scarlet bones, and shadow black blood. A wicked face of torment, waxing and writhing in furious pain, with the teeth of an unholy monster, was adorned on the top of the fountain. I assume that this is a shrine to such a depraved a deity as the green flame. On the floor a circle, and lines cut through it, rounded by the marking that I saw on the tablet. There was one other object in the room, something like a pulpit, made from darkwood, and inside it sat a book. Morbian removed the book, and placed it on the pulpit. The book bindings were in horrible man-leather, whipped with chains, and stitched with human hairs. In the center of the cover, an arrangement in bone; the book being the one of the most ghoulish and ghastly thing I have ever had the severe displeasure to place my eyes upon. He showed me, inside the book, of the many rituals that his friend, Edward Crane, had performed. And he showed me the single ritual that summoned the fiendish green flame into the poor patients soul, and formed the beast that destroyed all our gains. Morbian explained that his purpose was mainly to reverse the possession, with the magical elixir, which I saw on the tray; it was to be injected into the veins of the patient, and even though it was excruciatingly painful, it would theoretical release the demon, possibly even destroying it completely. Morbian thinks that he has perfected a formula that he used and he realized the fault that caused the loss of the tablet. He points to the fountain, and in the relief's mouth, there was a square indentation, and it seemed that the tablet would make the perfect fit. In all our focus, an earth-shattering crash came from upstairs. And the most unhallowed scream, like the one on that eve that no man could make, like the one by my house, and in the clearing. So we bolted for the stairs, at the end of the hall, and then I heard poor Eric screaming, lo! the horror. I then quickened up the steps, with revolver in hand, ready to blast the cause of the crash. The table was turned, all over on its side, and Eric was gone, and so was the scream. The lanterns were broken, about to kindle a furnace to take down the lab. Both Morbian and I took out of the house, but before he left, he grabbed that glowing syringe, and a strange little bullet, and placed them in a hard leather box, so no to misuse it.
VI. The Bloodbath
And we knew where to go, the miserable woods, where the green soul hath called my friend and me. We made splendid haste, for it was midnight when we reached the opening. The green light grew strong, hazy and all, with blazing hot fire that scorched my fleshy tissue. And when the path grew broad, and the clearing was here, we both saw the evil spirit, and my comrade in his clutches. The beast, as he saw us, tossed Eric's carcass, and it bounced off the earth, his body limp as the lifeless. The wretched thing growled another unearthly yowl that was extreme as it was putrid. It spat out dark green ooze, the viscous and toxic material that dripped from its abyssal maw. We both stood and gazed in fear and trepidation at this abomination of nature and mockery of life. It looked nothing like a man, or any earthly being, and if I were to see it again I would have to pluck out my eyes from madness. Just thinking of it brings me to the brink of utter lunacy. Without even thinking, I fire away, releasing two of my pistol slugs into the mockery. It again howls with misery, and it makes a swing for my torso. I bound backwards, and Dr. Morbian makes a lunge at the thing with his hypodermic. He misses, and the syringe shatters on the earth. I duck another one of the monster's blows, and scarcely at that. Then he makes a swipe for Morbian. He utters a cry, and blood did rupture forth from his veins, showering me in its crimson syrup. He grabs my hand and with his last breath he uttered the word, "fire". He leaves me a bullet, silver and pure, alive with the overwhelming aura of the needle. I dive under the fiend, and load my new round, and I use all my strength to let go of them all. I fire four times, and then stop, the beast hunching over me, growling, spitting, and covered in blood.
I mutter revenge for my best of friends, and let the bullet go, that flew through the night, through the gloomy and depraved ooze spewing cretin, that was summoned from the blackest stars, with malevolent and wicked objectives, that only aliens can create. The demon screaming the most unholiest shriek, that again dangled my reason on a thread. It blew apart into many pieces, more that a billion and one, that splashed me with black chunks of flesh and blood, and the evil green slime. After some time, that took me to reach back to my senses and sanity. I check on the body of my unlucky friend, he has no pulse and sadly he is dead, which forced me to shed many a tear. And so is the doctor, but that I did not doubt. I wish I had some way better to change the outcome. But the demon is gone, and I am alive, for if I was not I would not have be able to write this tale. But the oddest thing of them all, was when I went back to my home, and there on the kitchen table, sat the alien tablet, adorned by the idol. And for everyday that I live, I must look behind my shoulder, for when I am alone in the darkness, I hear that rustling of the grass, and that sometimes I glimpse the faintest of lights, that jade creepy light that brought much demise.
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