SHORT STORY: BEYOND THE MOUNTAIN RIM

INTRO

There are few individuals within the Western World who have been witness to some of the greatest Horror imaginable on this planet. Many attempted to tell the world of what lies beyond the consciousness of our industrial, science-based understanding. They were shunned, or cast out as frauds, and liars. Who can believe them when our world view is conditioned to disregard such things. All around us, we are fed ideologies by the new pseudo-philosopher who tells us we are “masters of ourselves.” Nietzsche said “God is dead,” and how wrong was he. God did not die, nor did Christ, or Satan. We expelled them from our worldview. They still remain on earth along with the Annunachi, Yog-Soggoth, Cthuhlu, and the Night Gaunts. Yet, we cannot find them, for they find devotion far away from the confines of our civilized world. Secret cults, and sects of followers who still bid them homage. Away from the all of the rational thinkers and naysayer’s of the supernatural. They spend their time, waiting, …waiting for the day when they can finally unleash the powers of the deities they worship and use them on the puny scientific man. Powers no weapon can destroy, powers no prayer can stop, powers that bring a force so terrifying from the other realm of existence into our own…we will not be able to stop it. Whether it be God, or the Dark One, nothing will stand in its way, when they are finally brought into full control of our tiny blue marble of a planet within the expanse of the universe. We, the people of the civilized world, cannot begin to comprehend it all…

-F. H. Gonzalez
The Author

BEYOND THE MOUNTAIN RIM

The dark, Gothic structures of Gotham strike an aire of dominance and supreme power to those who walk in their shadows. Still, they are not large enough to compare with the might and physical imposition posed by the northern Appalachian mountain ranges outside the city confines. Interesting, is the fact that these mammoth structures of nature lie only within a two-hour trip outside the city on the New York, New Jersey state line. What is perhaps the most peculiar thing about this region is that there is no proper network of highway or railroad channels going through the region. All tracks of the New York Central lead straight up to Albany, completely bypassing the Catskill region. Most of the roads will divert to Pennsylvania to cities like Allentown and Philadelphia.
Like the Pine Barrens of New Jersey, there are local superstitions about this region along the state line. Even though the Northern Catskill mountains attract several tourists in the summer months, many people refuse to delve into the forests. Most authorities will advise against it, due to the rugged terrain making injury and death a high risk. Other reasons include the large amounts of wild bear and wolves inhabiting the area. However, if you confront the locals with a proposition of treading into the mountains and woods, they will tell of you fantastic stories of ancient rites being performed by devil-worshiping cults, hiding in the woods at daylight, and proceeding to the mountain rims to perform blood sacrifices.
These peculiarities intrigued my good friend, John Helstrom. Like many people his age, he was quick to question anything. We both attended the same classes while enrolled at Miskatonic. He had a profound interest in anything supernatural. Now, at first I was overjoyed in his interest, but it was soon revealed that any reading of any passage of the ancient rite books was looked upon with mockery. John always had convictions about the Christian worldview, but often he disregarded anything that went against the scientific world he held close to his heart. John was a self-proclaimed agnostic, despite being baptized an Episcopalian. He once told me, “I grew up listening to the fantastic stories of Christ walking on water, and “Yahweh” separating the Red Sea. However, I grew up in a world where proof is the answer to all questions. We can no longer afford to rest our minds in faith in something we cannot prove exists.”
In the years following John’s graduation from Miskatonic, he went on to write for the New York Inquirer as an adjunct reporter. I worked at the Arkham Times, and in the time I was employed there I was confronted with fantastic stories from the locals. Often, I sent John correspondences explaining the details of some of the tales. I heard news from Dunwhich of a peculiar young boy who was growing at an alarming rate, as well as cults gathering between Ipswich and Arkham. Almost every day I received news from locals living close to Innsmouth who sent letters speaking of evil fiends who stalk the night.
With ever letter I sent of these accounts, John always replied with mockery. One letter read as follows

My Dear Randolph,
You take so quickly to these ramblings of the back woods folk. Many of whom do not have electricity or indoor plumbing. The uncivilized man is susceptible to such superstitions based on his lack of understanding of how the world works. What may sound like a spooky monster may be a black bear. If he sees some strange creature walking on its hind legs only, it may be some new species of animal that roams the countryside. If I were you, I would leave Arkham as soon as possible. Who knows, you may begin to rant and rave like those farmers and opium addicts. Come here to New York, or Chicago. Rejoin civilization!
Your Good Friend,
John Helstrom


At times I asked myself why I even bothered telling him about it, perhaps it was a yearning that he may begin to believe such fantasies were possible. I never took all of the stories seriously, but I took a degree of consideration to each and every one I investigated. This region is perhaps unlike any others I have ventured to across the nation. In the Southwest, there are tales of strange deities having made visitations to the ancient Hopi. The Midwest is full of tales of strange phantoms stalking the grounds of decrepit homes from the early days of the French occupation of the region. Here, in New England, we have many tales that defy logic, and reasoning. I soon made it my profession to investigate each and every one of these legends.
Unfortunately, my time for research was cut short due to the advent of the Great War. I was assigned to the light infantry division in Western France. Much to my delight, I found out that John Helstrom was going to be following the Massachusetts division to cover the battles for the Inquirer. I never spoke much to John while I was there, he was always too busy covering details of reports from the front, as well as fabricating details for his boss Mr. Kane. One night, my regiments was resting after capturing several Imperial German correspondents.
John confronted the troops who were going through the letters, and asked to see them. All were written in German and French, and John had translators aid him in the reading of the letters. One letter struck his interest the most, it was from Russia. The sender was a man named Dmitri Litvinov, the intended receiver was John Herot. Yes, John Herot the controversial archaeologist who is guilty of having infiltrated and stolen several artifacts across the continents of Asia and Africa. The French and Germans gave him asylum, but his name and his theories bid him great notoriety.
John Helstrom, my friend who believes in only logic, picked up the letter written by Litvinov. The French translator read it aloud,


Monsieur Herot,

I hope this letter finds you quickly. I received direct correspondence from Dr. Lehmann. The intended site of excavation you mapped out in the south of Prussia is damned. I cannot tell you where Dr. Lehmann is right now, but his letter told of him being caught between the crossfire of German and Russian armies. He spoke of great horrors that exist within an estate in the forests near the Carpathians. I am making it my priority to have Russian troops search the area from him. I fear he may be in a state of delirium. If you read this letter, you too would fear the monstrosities that await our explorations. I suggest we stop excavating in Samaria. It was one thing to have seen that Richard Schlemming commit suicide due to the rants about his being chased by a demon, but to hear about all five excavation team members being lost in South Prussia is more than I can handle. I fear Lehmann had gone the way of Schlemming, I think we have gone far enough.

D. Litvinov.


Ironically, when John explained the letter to me, I found it a bit too far-fetched. Nothing was explained, and it was intended to be read by someone who was more well astute on the subject matter. I knew little of Herot, other than his crimes. However, John was intrigued. The war prevented him from doing any research, but he made it his business to see if Herot was still residing in France. At that point I lost touch with John.
At the war’s end, I finally heard from John again, he was in Poland. I arrived back in Arkham to find unread letters from him. They all regarded the efforts of Herot and Litvinov, and their archaeological evidence of an ancient cult that exists throughout the world. He spoke of traveling to places like Tibet and Egypt to continue further research. Due to lack of funds, John took a job as a foreign correspondent in war-torn Germany. During his time there, he sent me a letter announcing his return to the United States due to the discovery of a secret sect related to the theories of Herot.
According to these theories, the ancient cult still exists in small numbers across the world, but there are few witnesses to prove their existence. Many of the supposed locales that contain evidence are located in the remote wilderness regions of many nations. Much to his delight, John found out that one of the locales was located within the main confines of the Catskill Mountain region. In May of 1923, I received this letter,

Dear Randolph,


I know I have gained a reputation as a naysayer of the supernatural. I must affirm that I will never change in this respect. Your last correspondence put me under the impression that you believe I am taking these stories seriously. Well, yes, there was an ancient cult, which some still join, but it’s all novelty. They are no different than the séance houses and fortune shops that attract the dull-witted. I just want to expose them because it attracts readers. I don’t mind picking up ancient artifacts along the way, so long as they rake in monetary rewards.

I hope I made myself clear,
John Helstrom


The following week I received a letter from John, he was going into the Catskills alone for one night. The weather was growing worse as lightening storms enveloped the region. Yet, the entire week was predicted to have clears skies throughout the evening hours. I received another letter giving me the exact date, being May 18, when John was to go alone into the woodlands. I sent one last letter, it being May 8, to try and persuade John to allow me to join him. I never received the correspondence…
May 16, I took a brief holiday to travel to the New Jersey, New York state border, where John was heading. Past Gotham, I was unable to procure any rail or road transport there. A local told me the only way there was by air. It was then, that I discovered that an Inquirer reporter reserved a flight aboard a Curtiss Military trainer plane traveling to a makeshift air field within the mountain range. The main officer at Floyd Bennett informed me that no aircraft were scheduled to pass through the area except for a Pennsylvania Railroad charter flight leaving from there to Gotham, in the morning. I went back into Gotham, and remained at a small hotel in Yonkers for the evening.
I soon found myself with the suitcase with the written accounts of the region I received from Dr. Armitage. I almost feared delving into them, it was late in the evening and I wanted to get some sleep. However, I feared John was going into a region where unknown forces were assumed to exist. There were two written accounts from the early Dutch colonial period that really caught my interest. The first one, dated from 1654, it spoke of Mohawk tribes performing devilish rites to expel the settlers from the Jersey woodlands. It spoke of constant attacks from tribe warriors, many of whom were described to be wearing masks depicting fiendish creatures. What was most peculiar about this article was the description of a flying winged human following the tribes in their pursuit of the settlers.
The second account was a bit more clear, and far more disturbing than the previous account. One evening in March 1662, a group of Dutch musket men ambushed a Mohawk village. It was written that the village was situated within the deep confines of a the mountains. The account read as follows,

Never in my years of wondering these woods have I found a region so well protected by the surrounding geography. Several of my man grew tired after only climbing over the mountain’s edge to find this village. We were told it was the main center of the tribal community. It was there that the tribe leader and his sons resided. It was there were those devils chanted curses upon our people. I took up with me fifty five good men, all having had good marksman ship and experience from previous Indian wars. We found the village late after the sun had set. The village was quiet, and as we neared closer we saw a devilish procession taking place. There, in the center of the village, was a rock altar rising some thirty feet from the ground. Below, the people were all wearing masks and chanting some horrible spell. I had my men silenced to avoid any notice from the tribe members. I didn’t get a good look at the rite, for one of my men open fired out of fear. Soon, all men formed a flank and fired at the tribe. Everyone ran in different directions, the men at the top of the altar were still praying, I sent two men up there to finish them off. I meanwhile led the raiding party as we burned all of the huts down and confiscated any goods left unguarded. I turned to the altar and saw some strange smoke billowing from the top. I saw one of the two man racing towards me, he spoke of some frightening scene where the high priest was putting his arms on the chief’s son. He reported to me that the chief had taken his own life, and his other son had thrown himself from the altar. Understanding that one of my men as still up there with two of the fiends still alive, I climbed the jagged altar with three men. When we reached the top we found something that can justify the evil that resided in this place. I was never one to assume the tales of witches and goblins were true, but this event changed my perspectives. Lying the ground was the dead high priest, whose skin had sunk back into his bones, and his hair pitch white. My lone man who was there was in hysterics. He almost proceeded to slit his throat, but my men restrained him. We tried talking to him about what had happened, and all he told us was a ritual that was performed that had transformed the chief’s son into a daemon. I know something evil transpired here, but I cannot say what happened, nor do I care to find out. I know that we defeated the red-skinned devils, and that’s all what matters. May God’s divine providence protect us all!


Some of the side articles spoke about local beliefs that some winged creature resides in the region. At the time I read this, I was not as perturbed by this account. It seemed a bit odd, there seemed to be no conviction in the author’s voice. Yet, I felt John was going to confront something interesting that would push his beliefs. Dr. Armitage had told me about local accounts of a cult meeting in the mountains. There was no proof, and yet my heart almost throbbed as I realized John probably took his camera along with him.

II

The next day, I arrived at Floyd Bennett field to see if John was going to disembark from the airplane. All of the passengers got off, and John was no where in sight. I confronted the pilot and asked him if there were any passengers who reserved a flight to Gotham. He said there was a John Helstrom who was supposed to board, but he wasn’t at the air field. I immediately inquired about gaining passage to the region to look for John myself. I was able to board a small aircraft that was taking surveyors from the Pennsylvania railroad to map the region for a possible railroad route. I was beginning to grow worried.
All of the stories from last night began to instill a great fear of what John may have encountered. There was no exact description of the winged creature both accounts spoke of. I feared it was some terrifying carnivorous cryptid that attacked my friend. I looked out the plane window and saw the great mountains rise from the horizon. I felt a sensation as though I was being swallowed by some great beast.
The plane arrived at the field at the state border. I found several local police men stationed there. News had gotten out of some terrifying light had exploded from the region. Teams of sheriff and police investigators were scanning the region. Locals were at the airport, giving accounts of some great light flashing over the mountains, rupturing whole chunks of the forest. I tried speaking to the authorities about John, but I was told to wait while the other locals explained their accounts of what transpired the night before. One man, sporting a brown, tattered coat explained the strange incident. He spoke of some loud cry echoing from the mountains. He said it sounded as though “Hell had done risen from beyond dem woods.”
Several of the officers were gathering stories and all seemed to have one detail in common. A bright light had flashed over the mountain tops, and loud voice, or group of voices were heard throughout the evening. The flash of light was already declared unexplainable. There were no storms in the area the previous night, and there were no scheduled aircraft traveling at night to have crashed near the area.
I finally came forward and explained to the authorities about my friend John Helstrom, having traveled through the woods. Instead of getting the men to search for him, they immediately put me aside for questioning. I was asked what kind of man he was, and if he had any interests in explosives. I grew impatient, and stressed the importance of finding John. I briefly explained his purpose of having traveled to the region for the evening.
At the moment when I explained John’s quest to find the secret cult, the faces of everyone there turned to look at me. I knew I had mentioned something these people knew a great deal about. One man, disheveled in his appearance, approached me,
“You must be talking about that devil cult, that meets every Friday in May. I’ve heard ‘em breaking through the woods and brush. I never saw them, but one night I went into town, leaving my poor Gloria to fend for herself. I came home only to find her screaming and tugging at my coat. She spoke of some large hoards of people chanting curses and hissing in the nightfall. She said dem whippoorwills were flying like crazy around the house. Almost as if the presence of these folk drove all of them animals nuts. I sure as hell didn’t want to find out what was going on. I went back into the house and clenched my double barrel and waited at my seat. I was gonna shoot any of dem heathens if they wanted to take me and my wife for blood sacrifice.”
An officer spoke up, “There aren’t too many residents in this area. Let alone, many don’t have contact with the outside world, but my departments has received reports of strange going-ons. I assumed they were a group of punks trying to pull some practical joke on the locals. I seldom send any of my men to search the area, although we never had a good lead to do any further investigating. I will admit, what happened last night is more than I need to send some investigators down there. The only problem is that we can only perform searches in daylight, and most of the locals say these spooks come out only night.”
An older man pushed himself into the crowd, “Only at night, I tell ya! I fall on my knees and thank God when the sun rises every day. My brother Chaney lived a few miles up the turnpike, and he and his family had to spend a few days at my farm. They was too scared to face the night over there. He said they come galloping through around three. He said he saw Satan himself walking among these people. Why, there was one night he and his oldest boy Fennison were out trapping muskrats. They were out late, and he said it must have been past midnight cause he and his son set up camp and had their dinner out in the forest. They built a fire and stayed out late, and on their way home they heard footsteps of some large procession. He said he was too scared to look, but he said he saw a large gathering, like a church congregation of some sort. They was all dressed in cloaks, and he said some of them had devilish looks on their faces. His poor daughter said one night she couldn’t sleep, she was looking out her window, and she saw some freaky thing look into her bedroom. It had fangs, and red eyes. They went into town, and some guy told em they saw a Chimera. Some monster from Bible days.”
I was growing afraid, almost too afraid to go looking for John. After hearing what these people were saying made me fear what John may have seen. He was the type to follow his curiosity, even if it led him to his own grave. I didn’t say a word, several people spoke over each other talking about their experiences with this cult. Not one of them ever mentioned where exactly this cult met, and what they were doing. It only sounded as though they were speaking of these incidents the best way they could understand them.
One man, a pastor of some sorts, came forward into the crowd. He looked around us with a stern look and began to give his explanation of the cult, “I believe in Jesus, I believe in the power of God almighty. I also believe in the power of Satan. Yet, as we look around at our world, we are beginning to learn about the new forces at work on this planet. All humans are guided by one God, yet there are other humans, usually in small circles, who pledge allegiance to creatures and monsters who they proclaim to be deities. The old Indian tribes did this, and now the people of today are seduced by this resurgence in daemonic worship. They are not worshipping Satan, they are worshipping some force that does not come from God’s world. I do not know enough of what this beast intends to do with humanity, but I know it resides within these parts. It rests in slumber, awaiting the moment when feeble humans call upon it to wreak its havoc upon the world.
“It knows nothing of God, like the animals that walk upon the earth, it too was created by some unseen force. Maybe it was God, but I doubt it. What I can tell you is what happened last night has a lot to do with this beast. My father told of such a creature. It’s large, almost unstoppable. It doesn’t prey on humans by nature, but it has the power to rapture anything that crosses its path into some horrific existence. What do you think really happened to the son of the Mohawk Indian chief who was sacrificed to this beast on the night when the Dutch settlers attacked.”
This claim caused the crowd to burst into argument over the subject matter, I remained silent. I once again confronted the chief officer about sending a party to search for John. After trying to calm the crowd down, several officers retreated with me to begin the search. We had no idea where John might have gone, but we assumed there was a possibility that he was around the main forests and the mountain rim leading into the large valley on the other side. It must have been near the late afternoon when a soft purple tone turned the blue afternoon sky into dusk.
We made our way with flashlights and gas lanterns, breaking through trees and broken limbs. The mosquitoes were rampant, biting several times on my fingers and forehead. As the sun begin to fall behind the mountain rim, we began to make our way back to the airport. My heart was settled with the notion that John Helstrom was dead, fallen victim to a force he mocked, all to make profit in exposing what he believed was a bogus cult. Our search party ended up winding through some unfamiliar territory, and with the sun nearly below the horizon, it was difficult to see where we had come from. The darkness that came from the East seemed to envelope the scenery as the mountain mist slowly fell into the valley. After an hour of walking, I was set on staying nearby in a local inn till I was able to secure transportation back to Gotham. We were near what appeared to be the light from the airport shed. It looked as though it was still another two hundred feet from where we were standing.
We all sighed with relief, the darkness had stirred some feelings of anxiety among the state troopers who began to recall some of the horrid accounts we heard earlier. Everything seemed better as the light grew nearer, and then we found John Helstrom. We were walking silently as we dimmed the gas lanterns, and we began to hear a low whimpering sound. My heart began to beat quickly as I saw a dark silhouette stumbling towards the airport. I looked closely, and saw the man was wearing an overcoat with an unbuttoned shirt. We slowed down, hoping our footsteps wouldn’t startle him. He turned around immediately and screamed, falling to the ground with both of his arms covering his face.
I ran up to him, he was on the ground shaking and convulsing. I began to sweat, not knowing what to do, but when I saw it was John Helstrom my heart leapt for joy. At the same time I felt a deep sense of fear, not wanting to hear what had happened. I grabbed John, and tried to reassure him that he was safe now. I knew then, he had indeed seen something that put him in a state of fear. His eyes were wide open, with his iris appearing small against his bright green eyes. His upper lip shook strenuously, and his teeth were grinding against each other as if he was seeing something too horrible to describe.
The other officers helped him get on his feet. We tried to walk slowly back to the airport, but John kept screaming as he turned his head. Perhaps it was the dark branches that appeared to be like the hands of some fiend that startled him. I was trying to be considerate of the situation. At the same time, I almost felt like jeering at his state of shock. After all, this was the man who claimed nothing supernatural was real. As I watched him shaking and squirming, I knew he needed to be treated delicately. I really wanted him to forget what happened, but at the same time I was curious.
At the airport, a car picked the both of us up and drove us into Kingston in New Jersey. John remained quiet, and fell into a deep sleep. As we entered the town limits something frightening transpired. The lights from the town caused John to awaken immediately and he turned at me, with his mouth wide open. He wanted to scream, but I saw he was unable to do anything. He grabbed a hold of me, and began to grind his teeth, yet I saw no hatred in his eyes. He wanted to say something, but I tried to push him back. The driver pulled over and opened the passenger door, attempting to restrain John. The police car behind us pulled over, and two officers exited, grabbing a hold of John. They immediately took him into the police car and drove off.
I didn’t go back to the hotel, I asked the driver to take me to the police station. He suggested I retire for the evening and leave John at the mercy of the law. I told him about what might have happened to John based on the accounts stated by the locals earlier. The driver laughed, but he soon understood that this may clear John of being accused as a violent criminal.
I arrived at the station only to find a black Lincoln sedan parked outside the station. Exiting the vehicle was Mr. Lang from the Inquirer. With him was Jedidiah Leland, who was one of John’s closest friends from the newspaper. I spoke with them, and we all agreed to vouch for John, so that he may not receive a prison sentence. Even when he had attacked me in the car, I knew he was not in his right mind.
I waited with Mr. Leland at the bench near the police Chief’s office. I must have smoked some ten cigarettes during the long wait while Mr. Land was speaking to the Chief. Mr. Leland turned to me, “I never knew John would fall into such a state. When I got word of what he did to you in the car, I knew something wasn’t right. I tell you, I have seen some people fall into insanity. Take my boss for instance.” He chuckled, hoping it would alleviate my stress, but I sat quietly as he continued, “When he told me about that letter he received in the Great War, about that John Herot character, I thought he was digging his nose into something bad. Charlie Kane was the one who got him to see the advantage of exploiting strange stories in his paper. There was a time when I received personal cables from John, some of them just didn’t read as if he wrote them. I really thought he believed some of this stuff. When he came back to New York last month, he seemed to back to his old arragont self. He was convinced that cult out in the mountains was a hoax. He told Mr. Kane how it was going to provide a good laugh for everyone in New York. I, well, I’m not one for superstitions, but when something sounds strange, well, it sure as hell is something strange. I went to Scotland with Mr. Kane once, and some man at a Tavern once told us about cults all over the world. They all worship some god known as the Dark One. Of course Mr. Kane and myself laughed it off, assuming the man was drunk. But, I thought about for some time, and after this incident, I’m beginning to believe there is something great going on here.
“Just before I left with Mr. Lang, Charlie Kane confronted me about this story. He said the article was to be scrapped, He was not going to have spooky story published in his paper, as if that was the worse thing that can be published in a paper that makes up news reports. You know, he threatened to fire me if I tried to persuade Mr. Lang to publish this story. I really would like to know what happened to John Helstrom.”
Just as we finished conversing, I heard a loud scream. Several cries came out from the inmates who were crying out for the warden. Several officers ran towards the cells, with Leland and myself following. All of the prisoners in the adjoining cells were crying out to be released, and the officers were standing still in cold fear. I peered through and saw something I made my heart sink with the greatest amount of fear imaginable. There, was John Helstrom, crouching at the floor, hissing and clawing his fingers preparing to attack. His eyes were bloodshot, he crawled in a near animalistic manner. I was about to turn away when I saw something strange engraved in his cell. Above him was a swastika carved into the wall, and a carving a beast-like creature with sharp teeth. Leland held his breath, muttering, “There are such things…”

III.

A week had past since the incident at the Kingston Police station. I was in a state of shock. I hadn’t left Kingston, I remained at the same hotel, refusing to check out as I was approached each day when I had promised to leave. Nothing had been reported in any of the local newspapers. Mr. Kane saw to that, as a matter of fact, he seemed to have taken full control of the situation. John was one of his own reporters, and he didn’t want any news of his incident to taint the name of the The Inquirer. I didn’t want to ask any more questions. It had been an overwhelming week, and after finally gathering all of my thoughts, I decided to return to Arkham.
For a brief time I was beginning to forget about the entire incident. I returned to my office at the Times only to find new stories and articles. Yet, I found myself unable to gain any desire to work on these cases. Many had to do with supernatural occurences. I was afraid…I began to remember what happened that night at the jail cell. I had constant recollections of John in the forest. I knew some great, and terrifying force was running loose in our world. John got to see it firshand, and I didn’t want to slip into a state of madness.
Over time I began to stay up late reading more about the region. I found that I, myself, grew fearful of my own surroundings. Every time I turned off the electric light, I ran to my bed, covering my face in my sheets. I felt as though something was lurking in my room, waiting for me to emerge from the sheets. Some grotesque, horrid beast that preys on the souls of those who try to answer the questions of what exists beyond the mundane. I found myself waking up from nightmares. I closed my eyes, and the dark void was in view, and some beast emerged from the void with its mouth opened. Often, I never went to sleep, and this cycle was beginning to disrupt my work life. I eventually appealed to the editor, and was given a leave of absence for a week.
Everything was set, I was to spend the next three weeks in Bangor, Maine. I was looking forward to spending time in a resort among good-willed people. Humble fishermen, and families getting away from the hectic life of the metropolis. I arrived at the bus station to head to the train station at Boston. I saw the editor running down the street waving a cable in his hand. He approached me, handing over the cable. I took one glance at it, and all I had to see was “Glen Cove Sanitarium.”
As soon as I arrived in Boston I bought a ticket for Gotham, as well as a transfer to Glen Cove in Long Island. At that moment, all of the fear and terror that consumed me over the past few days had vanished. I was in my right mind, and my curiosity of the mental state of John Helstrom made me persistent to take the trip to Glen Cove. Aboard the train I looked at the cable again, it read,

“Mr. Randolph,
Seeing that your name was on John’s list of contacts, we felt it was best to notify you. John Helstrom has been transferred to the Glen Cove Sanitarium for study. The Physicist at Kingston believed he is suffering from a sort of psycho-somatic disorder. In other words, his spells of delirium occur when he falls asleep. We will be performing several tests to see if we can find out exactly what brought him into this state.

Sincerely,
Dr. Mason

The afternoon had left a clear, blue sky hanging over the bright green trees of the Long Island coast. The taxi had made a slow turn to the left off the main highway and continued down a dirt road enveloped by mammoth cottonwoods. A bright ray of sunlight was visible at the end of the road. The taxis swerved and was driving along a circle of gravel around a field of green grass. Several nurses and patients were scattered throughout as the run shone brightly giving their white uniforms an angelic appearance.
Before I was able to recollect the scene, I was already inside bring introduced to Dr. Mason. He was a stern-looking man, with harsh wrinkles scaling his forehead and lower cheeks. His eyes had that look as though he did not want to be asked too many questions. We shook hands and proceeded down the hall to the room where John had been staying.
According to Doctor Mason’s overview, John had been transferred to the sanitarium the day after the incident at the police station. There were direct orders from Mr. Kane for any news of this transfer to remain secret. As soon as John was brought to the sanitarium, he was assigned to a room at the end of the hall of the first floor. Once again, Mr. Kane had intervened in the arrangements for John’s living quarters. Dr. Mason had received strict orders to put John in a room all by himself. After the incident in the jail cell, it was evident that John was too dangerous to left alone with another patient.
I stood behind Dr. Mason as he approached the door at the end of the hall. He took a roll of keys out, sorting through the various keys, pulling out the one for the room. The door opened as a dark void was only visible against the bright rays of sunlight coming from the windows. Inside this black pit was John Helstrom, silently lying down in his bed. I stood behind as Dr. Mason approached John with a crucifix in his hand. My eyebrow had risen in disbelief of what followed. Dr. Mason had lowered the crucifix, handing it to a limp John, who slowly took the sign of Christianity and embraced it as his eyelids shut. Dr. Mason turned around and exited the room, slowly closing the door behind him. He turned and looked at me,
“When he first arrived here, he was ranting and raving. The police had to put him in a truck, due to the fact that he had been trying to attack the driver in the squad car. On the train over here, he was put in a baggage car, like some animal. When they finally brought him here, he was still wide-eyed and catatonic. We tried to keep him out of sight from the rest of the patients, so we put him in the chapel till we could find a proper room for him. One of the doctors stayed behind to keep an eye on him, and much to his amazement, John grew very calm. He said John approached the chapel altar and fell on his knees in tears. He slowly approached the main crucifix and embraced it. When we tried to transfer him to his room, he nearly when mad, tugging and tearing at the uniforms of my men.
“When we finally brought him to his room, he saw the crucifix above his bed, and he sighed and began to fall asleep. Since then, he has never left the room. Every night he will burst into a clamor of terror. I’m assuming they were nightmares as a result of the trauma from his trip into the woods. He will wake up and find the crucifix above his bed. Every time we send someone into this room to bring his meals, they have to carry a crucifix. Otherwise, he will hide behind his bed sheets and whimper. Sometimes he will burst out, attacking the person.
“ I must admit, I know nothing about ordinary people who develop these behavioral traits. From what I have learned, most people attain these traits, but I believe your friend has a disorder that is deep within the subconscious. It only comes out when triggered, I noticed that any sudden change will trigger the behavior, but night is perhaps the main reason he loses rationale. Every evening, around eleven, we will turn the main floor lights off. This makes the entire building pitch black, and this is mostly to turn away any outsiders who may be attracted by a large building with bright lights on. Most of the patients are able to cope with this, given most of them are already asleep. But, John will scream in terror. We arrive at his room with flashlights, and we will see that he has dropped the crucifix from his bed. I assume it slipped out, and the darkness makes it impossible for him to find the crucifix. It causes anxiety, and irrational behavior. Another fact, as you may have seen, is that his room has no windows. So any lack of light will instill fear in his psyche. I want you to join me and my men for dinner tonight. I want to announce a proposition to all who have been involved in this case.
Dr. Mason turned around and walked towards his office leaving me behind. I stood, silently staring at the door leading into the pit of madness. How on earth had a man who scoffed Christianity, can now find solace in its most poignant symbol. Suddenly, I began to realize the immense terror that hid beyond my understanding of the current situation. I remembered the stories the locals told back at the airport. I began to walk away towards the main atrium when Dr. Mason returned with a book in his hand.
“The police gave me this upon bringing him here,” it was John’s private journal. “I haven’t glanced through it thoroughly, but I think once you read the second passage, you will appreciate my intended plan for getting John to come forth about his experience.” He walked away slowly, waiting for me to open the journal, as if this is what I had been waiting for all along. I was too afraid at the moment to read it. Yet, I found myself walking outside to the patio. I sat down and flipped through the pages. They were all dated, and I thought it was best to look at the two most recent entries. The first entry was dated from the day before he left for the Catskill woodlands.

May 17, 1923

I’ve taken one last panoramic view of Manhattan. It was nice to see the green dome of the Woolworth building shine against the setting sun. All I have to attend to tonight is to get some rest. I know what kind of day I have to look forward to tomorrow. I am curious, and at the same time a bit nervous. I read a lot about what that John Herot character wrote about, and I cannot deny that some of the subject matter is enough to rob someone of sleep.
At the same time I don’t want to allow the actions of some world wide cult rob me of my slumber. There’s a great deal of evidence that proves these people worship some deity that will bring unprecedented power to this earth. One of the Litvinov accounts likened these cults to the sacrificial cults of India and the East Pacific. I truly hope this is not the case, yet I do believe any cult existing in my own backyard of New York must be made up of men who are somewhat civilized.
I do find it funny when I think about the looks on those idiots faces when they see their cult exposed in the front page of the Inquirer. I know that Herot character might say something if this story should happen to reach across the ocean. Still, I don’t want to assure myself that I will have the last laugh. I read in an article in the Times about the death of Litvinov. Apparently he continued to supervise the excavation of some ancient cult temple in the woodlands of Southern Russia. While he was there, the man dies suddenly of some unknown cause. I am quick to believe that the fledgling Communist society didn’t provide adequate medicine to cure him, but some strange rumors have circulated about the man’s death. Apparently he was found lying in his office all skin and bones. Plenty of people who saw him before said he was in good shape. All of sudden, they find him looking extremely gaunt. It’s strange, but I’m sure there was a plausible explanation. Hopefully it has nothing to do with what I will discover tomorrow.

May 18, 1923, I think it’s about an hour past noon.

My plane arrived at the airport a few hours ago. I never flew in a bi-plane before, and I found the flight extremely exhilarating. However, I find this region to be a bit queer. During the flight, it almost seemed as if I was traveling back in time. The landscape seemed to change from the few farms and dairy plants to nothing but trees. As the plane crossed the state line, the mountains appeared to have risen from the ground and grow larger as the plane came closer to the range. This region is a bit imposing, but thankfully I was given a map by a cartographer who drew it up for me. I am beginning to have second thoughts about getting too close to the mountain range. It looks as though I will have to camp out close to the river so I can find my way back to the airport.
I figure, if a cult does meet out in these parts, I am positive they will make some sort of noise to make their presence known. I am relieved the professor in Berlin gave me an exact location. This region is too large to make an exact assumption as to where these people might meet. One thing I will note, it’s very quiet out here. There is almost no sign of anything living with the exception of the few millipedes and earwigs I have caught crawling up my arm. I’ve only seen one stray hawk. I haven’t heard the chirp of a bird, not the cracking of the brush made by any large mammals. I will not lie, this is a bit creepy. I will continue my walk towards the rim of the mountains, hopefully tonight will provide great fortune.

May 18, 1923

I must have ran several feet. The brush nearby will hopefully provide me good protection. Never, in my entire life, have I been afraid. It’s about dusk, and most of the objects in the forest are still visible. I mean to say, that I could not have mistaken what I just saw for some mundane object like a branch or bear. I was near a creek in which almost anything moving would be in plain view. I was resting there, and I saw a large figure, almost like an ape. It walked upright, it almost had similar posture as an ordinary man. I was unable to see it clearly, but I saw that it had dark brown fir, and was scouting the area for something. I stood quietly observing it when it suddenly jerked its head to look in my direction. I immediately ran off. As I was running it sounded as though something was pursuing me. May two or three of them. As I climbed further into the high altitiude, the sound of their movement ceased. Perhaps they turned back, or maybe they went to gather more. I am really afraid, and I think something inhuman is out to get me in these woods. I remember the pilot telling me about some family that once lived in these parts. I remember his ramblings about muskrat hunters being whisked away at night by the dozens. I really am afraid, and I don’t know if I want to go through with this. Thankfully I still have that revolver I bought back home. I intend on using it somehow. I really hope my writing…
I just turned around and saw a large tree trunk with some strange symbol engraved on the bark. It looks like some deranged cross with lines emerging inward from each end. It looks like some symbol I once saw on a skyscraper. Actually, I think it looks a lot like the symbol the Nationalist worker’s party in Germany use for their banner. I can’t remember right now, thoughts are going through my head like vultures circling in for the kill. I really hope I can find my way out. I’m too afraid to go near the river, they’re probably biding their time, waiting for me to descend from the mountains.

I was stunned after reading the last passage. John had indeed seen some creature that inhabits the region. As soon as I closed the book shut Dr. Mason came out to the patio. Dinner was about to be served, and several psychologists had arrived from the city to listen to Dr. Mason’s proposal. I walked back inside coming across the corridor leading to John’s room. A nurse and two men come up to the door, each holding a crucifix, they opened the door slightly. The sound of loud yelp echoed through the hallway to where I was standing. The nurse held the crucifix and the air and the silence continued.
A man came up to me directing me to the main dining hall where the other doctors had already been seated. Several cooks came in with trays of warm soup as Dr. Mason followed with several books in hand. I caught a glimpse of one of the books, it was “The Study of Esoteric Cultures,” by John Herot. All of the doctors remained silent while Dr. Mason took his seat at the head of the table. Dr. Mason sat down setting the book by Herot separately from the others. Dr. Mason began his speech,
“I am pleased that all of you have been able to attend this meeting. I also want to extend my appreciation for Mr. Helstom’s closest friend, William Randolph, for having made the long journey from Arkham. Gentleman, our field requires us to understand how the human mind works. Yet, we must also come to the aid of our fellow man who require our expertise. I am by no means a detective, yet, I am intrigued to find out what has driven John Helstrom into his current state. As many of you know, we cannot have him sit down and recollect what happened to him on the night of May the eighteenth. We deployed that method on the very day he arrived here. He is withdrawn, and prone to instant moments of rage.
“I do not consider his state to that of a disordered schizoid, even though all of my colleagues are persistent in believing so. John Helstrom experienced something too traumatic for him to willfully recollect. He is going to keep it to himself, and yet, what he is holding within his subconscious may prove valuable to the studies of our guest, Dr. Millard. I have here a copy of John Herot’s “The Study of Esoteric Cultures,” upon researching the events that took place in John’s visit to the mountains, I have found this book to be valuable in our discussion tonight. Dr. Millard will explain this more detail, Dr. Millard, you have the floor.”
Dr. Millard got up from his seat next to Dr. Mason, he slid over the book in his direction, “According to Dr. Mason’s research from John’s journal diary and history of correspondence, we have come to believe John was investigating into the Cult of The Dark One. I understand if any of you feel this subject is too childish, but it may help to explain what may have led John into his current state. I myself am a professor of Theosophy, I once met with the infamous Madame Blavatsky, and I am highly well-rounded in this subject matter. I know some people jump to the conclusion that men in my field are investigating the existence of monsters and ghouls. I assure you men, what I pursue is no different than what a devout Roman Catholic or Southern Baptists believes. We all have been told stories in our youth about creatures who walk the night. We grow up to believe they were only myths. However, all myths have basis in hard facts.
“John Helstrom had gained interest in the studies of Dr. Herot. John Helstrom has been known to be a man of science, and not a believer of the supernatural. Yet he read up on the Cult of the Dark One. I better explain this first, according to the evidence gathered by Dr. Herot, there have been various sects of one common belief in a deity that is believed to be the master of the alternate universe. A sort of underworld that is contrary to our own. It sounds outlandish, but you will find exerpts of articles on the subject written by Christian monks at the University of Paris.
“These people believe in harvesting an otherworldly power, for some unknown reason. An obvious assumption would consist of the cult wanting to attain supernatural powers. However that is only a personal assumption of my own. Madame Blavatsky had proposed that they are guardians of the secrets of the universe, this also is a theory. With the help of your methods, we may be able to get John Helstrom to come forth with what he saw the night he was alone in the woods. Then, we will have a better idea of what this cult is trying to do. Yet, I do feel it best to let it stay with John, I’m not superstitious by nature, but I even as I stand here, I feel we may be treading on dangerous ground Dr. Mason.
Dr. Millard took as seat as the other men continued to stare at him. Dr. Mason immediately got up, “You heard what Dr. Millard had to say. Now, I wish that all of you might take what he said into consideration. We are men of science, yet we cannot answer every question through science alone. Our ideas and theories also need to be reinforced through practice. Therefore, I propose we perform the practice of hypnosis on Mr. Helstrom.
Several of the doctors rose their voices in disagreement. Dr. Mason spoke over the men, “Listen, please bear with me for a moment. I know most of our colleagues believe this practice is unorthodox for a case like this one. Yet, our patient does not show signs of any psychological disorder. We need to find out what happened to him, for it cannot be ignored that this has direct relation to what Dr. Millard spoke about. I invited his friend Mr. Randolph to help me reinforce my idea. He had done research, which he believes John was aware of, regarding the history of the region.
Dr. Mason instructed me to give my analysis of the situation, yet I was unable to give clear details of what I had researched. I had brought the copy of the seventeenth century Dutch manuscript and read excerpts of it aloud. Most of the doctors still seemed dissatisfied. One of the adjunct doctors spoke up, “Dr. Mason, I think it was considerate of you to explain the background of Mr. Helstrom’s interests. But, I feel it best that we go through with this proposition of yours before we begin to link this case up with fantastic stories. I am a man of reason, and I require proof. Even then, we only will have discovered one piece of this puzzle. Once we have done our part I suggest we turn things over to our two guests.”





IV.
The morning sun shone through the double-paneled windows in my bedroom. Two attendants entered the room to collect the sheets from Dr. Millard’s bed, whom I spent the night with. I got dressed and went down to Dr. Mason’s office. There, was Dr. Greer with Dr. Millard as they filed through Dr. Mason’s book shelf. Dr. Millard approached me, “Were you able to sleep last night. I was aghast my the sounds I heard. I thought it was the other patients at first, but this went on in intervals throughout the night.”
I looked at Dr. Millard, “Noises, I didn’t hear a thing. Although, I did fall asleep quickly, I had been traveling all over the region that day.”
Dr. Mason entered the room, “Gentleman, everything is in order. We were able to clear the conference room where we will hold this session. All of you will observe from the adjacent parlor. I don’t want everyone in the room, it may startle him. You all must be discrete, and talking will be forbidden until the session is over. I will leave the door opened halfway, but you all must stay out of sight. Dr. Greer, I need you to go help Dr. Richards and Dr. Fritz with the removal of the main conference table. I will look for the book myself.”
Dr. Mason stood by my side, carefully watching Dr. Greer as he left the room. Dr. Mason shut the door behind him. He looked directly at Dr. Millard and I, “You must understand what I’m about to tell you must not enter the ears of the other doctors. Many of them are treating this experiment as some sort of jest. I think any more evidence will make them more ignorant to the truth than ever.” Dr. Mason took one more look around, “This morning, I went to Mr. Helstrom’s room to give him his daily sedative. More, or less, I wanted to observe his current condition.
“I’m sure you both heard his loud screams over night. Well, I knew something wasn’t right. Most nights, his screams will only be mere faint moans, and short abrupt shrieks. Last night, they were louder than ever…” Dr. Mason covered his forehead, and wiped his hand down his face as his wrinkled skin shuttered, “I went into this room this morning. He was lying on the bed, in a trance. I approached him, and he did not move. I was hovering over his face, and his eyes were wide-opened. He was starring up at the ceiling. I looked up above, and there was a black stain overhead. I extened my arm to get a feel for what was up there, and it was abnormally warm. I looked down, and I saw his top button of his bed wear had been ripped open. I slowly pulled the lapel back, and there were three long incisions on his chest. They appeared to have been cut by some sharp razor, the cuts were deep! Something, about this is just too frightening!”
Dr. Mason nearly collapsed, Dr. Millard and myself helped him back into his desk chair. I went to lock the door as Dr. Millard questioned Dr. Mason, “Where is he now, is he still alive?”
Dr. Mason caught his breath, “Yes, it was too strange. As soon as I turned away from him, he got up from his bed and picked up the crucifix from the floor. He stood up, and sat there starring at me. There was no definitive expression in his face, just an emotionless stare. I really don’t know what to do about this, I don’t think I can go through with the session.”
Dr. Millard stood there with his hand covering his mouth. He turned to me, “I am not aware how well you are aware of the Rite of the Dark One. I have several conclusions based on Dr. Herot’s own thesis based on the Samarian Manuscripts. I will have to think more about this when the session is over.
“Yet, I find this particular incident to be through-provoking. I have read countless accounts from Dr. Litvinov’s findings in Russia. I was on sabbatical in Vienna two years ago, and there was an article published by Litvinov about the Rite of the Dark One. It read something like ‘If man should dare to look upon it’s eyes, he will have opened the gate to the crypt where it resides. Those who embrace the Truth, will never be harmed, but those who enter the crypt will find that the Almighty One will have little sympathy for their misfortunes.”
Dr. Millard turned to Dr. Mason who appeared to be in his right mind again, “You see, if John Helstrom indeed came across some Dark Force, he will have little to look forward to. This session will only explain how he came across this evil.” Dr. Millard stood silent for a moment as his arms shook, “What I fear, is that too may come across this Force by hearing what John has to say. Those who seek knowledge of the Dark One, are asking for its presence to be alive in their own lives.”

V.
It was nine- o’ clock, the session was about to start. Dr. Mason had retreated to his private quarters again and again between final preparations. He passed me on my way up the stairs to the conference room. His breath wreaked of alcohol and tobacco. All of the doctors had waited for Dr. Mason at the top of the second flight of stairs, as he instructed. There, he was going to give us a final overview of what was going to transpire. His breathing grew heavy as he tried to address the group. His lower right eye lid twitched constantly, I was afraid he slightly drunk and the entire session was going to be withdrawn for the day.
He was able to contain himself, and he gave the group a quick briefing on what methods he was going to use. I wasn’t paying too much attention, my thoughts were still fixated on the facts Dr. Mason gave me earlier. I wanted to go to John’s room and see the black spot on the ceiling. Dr. Millard was standing quietly behind me, I glanced over towards him. He seemed very tense, and perhaps a little afraid. Like myself, I think he was afraid this session was going to open the door to some damned world we both believed had existed. I had known this world to be present based on my investigations back in Arkham. It was one matter to hear about them, it was another to find out they are true. This is what keeps me from wanting to find the answers to every question I posed about the supernatural. In moments, I was about to find out what answer John had unlocked from his journey.
Before John was brought in, all of the doctors made their way into the room adjacent to the conference room. We all sat on the far right hand side of the room so as to stay out of John’s view. Several doctors reluctantly opened their journals, waiting impatiently for Dr. Mason to return with John. I was seated next to Dr. Millard, who had a page in the book by Dr. Herot bookmarked. There was something in that page Dr. Millard wanted to return to, perhaps he was awaiting some damned evidence that will reveal itself during John’s hypnosis that coincided with something Dr. Herot had noted.
I will admit, I knew very little of the Cult of the Dark One. I only knew of its presence in Russia in ancient times. I knew nothing of its main tenants, nor any practices. At this point everything seemed enigmatic. I was unable to know for sure what might have happened to John. Based on my research, from the Dutch manuscript, a strange occurrence took place in the region John investigated, as well as other accounts of fiendish creatures stalking the land. I felt my hands shake as sweat gathered along my fingers. I questioned myself, as to whether I was ready to hear of such things that can cause a man to fall into insanity. A man who was once confident in his belief that everything had an explanation, and reason alone can answer all question. I heard the door open in the conference room. John and Dr. Mason were ready to begin their session.
I heard a clear voice slowly utter, “You are now in a state of total relaxation. You cannot feel the weight of your own body…” I didn’t see anything that transpired, and this almost caused me to take this session with disregard. I had a stereotypical image in my head of Dr. Mason swinging a pocket watch over John. I remembered then, Dr. Mason had the crucifix from the chapel brought into the room. He said it was placed above the desk where John’s field of view would catch sight of it. I really wanted to believe this was going to fail, but as I heard Dr. Mason instruct John to relax himself, I knew the truth was only a few questions away.
Once John had fell into a state of solace, the room fell into an uncomfortable silence. It lasted for almost five minutes. During that time I heard Dr. Millard’s breath grow heavier as his hands clenched the book he held in his hand. He now appeared to be afraid. His legs moved as though he was getting ready to rise from his chair and leave. The other doctors looked tired, Dr. Greer had rolled his eyes several times as he raised his left hand to look at his wrist watch. As soon as I turned back towards the door, Dr. Mason asked the first question…
“John Helstrom, what happened on the evening of May 18, 1923?”
I heard a long sigh, the voice of John replied, “I went into the woods, alone. I, I was looking for a cult. A strange cult, I thought they were dumb people making a scene in the middle of nowhere. I wanted to expose them. But, those woods are frightening. When I first arrived there, everything seemed all too terrifying. It was quiet at first, but I began to see things.”
Dr. Mason waited a few seconds to ask another question, “Did you see anything when you were in the woods alone?”
“At first, there was nothing in sight. Not even a bird, but down in the swamps there was some big creature. It looked like an ape, but it wasn’t. It was too far away to see. It looked at me, and ran in my direction!”
“John, relax…take a slow breath. What happened after that?”
“Well, everything went quiet again. The creature had gone away, and everything was just quiet. You could hear the sound of a locomotive chuffing, even though it was miles away. I sat, alone by the banks of the river. I tried to make a fire, and before I looked up at the sky again the sun was gone. Almost like an electric light switch. IT just disappeared, and the silence continued.”
Dr. Mason had remained quiet for another minute or two before continuing the session, “Did the silence last all night?”
I heard a low whimper, “No, it didn’t. God knows, I wish it had. The moon was high up, like some demon eye watching everyone below. It illuminated everything in the forest, everything, and that’s when I saw them. But I didn’t seem them first. You see, there was a low moan, like some deep vocalist holding a long note. It almost sounded like a prayer. I didn’t see anyone at first, but the moaning grew louder. It grew so loud that I knew they were in sight. I began to climb uphill to get away from the sound. It was no use, the sound was everywhere. I looked around, and God! It was so damned horrific. Throngs, and throngs of people gathering from all corners of the forest. All cloaked in black vestments, like a pastor’s. They walked so slow, yet every time I ran from their sight, they looked as though they advanced several paces closer!
“Their faces! Oh God! Their faces were horrible. They had sharp teeth and black round eyes. Some of them had large noses and no mouths. Others looked more human, but they had scary expression. They were like the death masks of some heathen tribe from settler days. They had long, cold hands, with long fingers. Almost like a skeleton, if I wasn’t so damned ignorant to such things, I would have assumed I was looking at the walking dead. But, one of them removed his face, he looked human again. I realized they were all human, and they were wearing masks.
“The one who took off his mask, looked at me! He didn’t move for almost a minute, and he stood there looking at me! He grew a hideous grin as he eyes gleamed in a fiendish white against the moon rays. He began walking towards me, the others didn’t notice. I just turned and ran uphill as far as I could. I was running from a possessed creature, because..” John’s breath deepened, “because when I turned back, he looked like a monster. He roared and flung his arms out. And I ran, God, did I run for them hills. I wanted to find my way back, and as I reached that summit, I saw all of them everywhere.
“It was then, that I saw where they were going! Beyond the rim of that hill was a large, stone pillar. It looked as tall as a church. There was a pillar of smoke rising from the top. I looked around, and saw that all of them had formed a straight line walking towards this pillar. Thank God almighty, I was out of their sight! I was ready to hightail for the airport, and I couldn’t move. I started walking towards that Hellish pillar. My heart kept telling me no, but something took hold of my physical body. I don’t remember how long it was, but I was within clear sight of the pillar. I saw the whole group gathered around this terrifying sight, they were all chanting and praying. Some of them were bowing constantly, raising their hands into the air crying for Him.
“Their shouts and screams echoed through the valley as percussion instruments patted and shook with a reverence for what was going to reveal itself. I had lost all fear, and I was once again curious. I wanted to find out what was taking place. Then, a loud tympanic drum sounded and four ghoulish figures appeared at the top of the pillar! They had white faces with black eyes! Their arms were intercrossed, and it looked like they were floating in midair. I didn’t see where they came from. They just appeared from the smoke at the top of the pillar.
“Suddenly the entire crowd began to yell and shout for Him!”
Dr. Mason tried to interrupt John, “Who is this person, this Him…”
John yelled out, and the sound of the chair collapsing behind him made everyone in our room flinch. I saw the shadow of John rising over Dr. Mason with his arms flung up, “They started screaming and hissing! They were placing their arms over one another. It looked like an orgy, and from the top of that pillar those four monsters turned north and raised their arms as a dark figure emerged from the smoke. Everyone screamed “Skuloklos emerges from R’lyeh!”
A loud scream pierced from the conference room making Dr. Millard behind me shutter in fear. My eyes had widened as I saw the shadow of John lifting his head as he stroke his fingers across his hair, “You will never see another terrifying beast than Skuloklos! He is a living beast. He emerged from that cloud, with big black eyes, and small white irises. His teeth were razor sharp, and his hands were dominated by large claws extending from his fingers. He had two long horns extending from both sides of his head. The crowd was chanting louder than ever, and as he approached the foot of the pillar they all bowed before this monster! He raise his claws to reveal a swastika on his palm. It had dots in between each space! HE stood there watching the crowd, and he turned around and bowed for the rising smoke.
“Only then, was I satisfied to know such evil exists in this world. But, that wasn’t the end of it. No! This devilish ritual had only begun! The entire crowd went completely silent. Two voices arose, they were coming from the pillar. One was coming from one of the ghouls, it was unusually high-pitched for what I assumed was a male. The other voice came from an unknown member, it was deep like the bellow of a fog horn. This chanting went on for more than a whole minute before being interrupted by a female voice. I did not hear what words came from her mouth.
“Whatever she was saying, I am blessed for not having remembered. If you only saw what those words summoned, you would pray to great Almighty One for your tongue to be removed from your mouth! What great terrors! I wished my eyes had been sliced, oh how I wish I had been killed by that man with the hideous grin! A thick cloud enveloped the pillar, and the smoke thinned for a moment before a row of razor sharp teeth was visible! A head appeared, like that of a large reptile, with red blazing eyes. Two large hands reached for the front corners of the pillar. The fingers were webbed, with large sharp, yellow nails extending in awkward directions. Two are three hair-like strains extended from the top of its head as it slowly growled showing its rows of jagged carnivore teeth. The earth shook violently as it raised its head up at the sky and roared! It roared so loud, I felt my eyes burst with tears. It looked down at Him, and it raised itself above the pillar revealing a swastika imprinted on its scaly chest.
“If that was not enough, a jet of steam enveloped the pillar. Like a geyser emitting hot vapors from the earth’s crust! The smoke shot straight into the heavens, everyone was still bowing, and chanting as the evil persisted to reveal itself to me.” Then, I felt my right hand collapse from my lower jaw. I was in complete terror listening to this. I flinched at the instant someone moved their foot. I can’t remember who it was, but I was shaken to the point that I knew it was only moments before I was going to fall into a state of insanity trying to comprehend it all.
I looked back, and I saw that John was in Dr. Mason’s face, “I was ready to leave! I was ready to turn back, and run away from this pit of Satan. The clouds cleared from the pillar and He and the beast were standing there as the four ghouls continued to face the ground. At that moment the smoke cleared, He turned instantly in my direction. He lifted his right hand to reveal a large saber clenched in his grips. He let out a hideous roar and the beast moved itself forward. He immediately raised his arms as two large wings extended from his back. They were like those of a bat, and flung up in the air racing towards me!
“I found that I was able to move again. I ran, breaking through trees, brush, and dead branches. I found myself running downhill towards that damned swamp where the creatures stalked me. I wasn’t thinking, I was running, and running fast to evade the impending evil that ensued. I saw a dark shadow fly overhead several times. I knew for a brief moment that I was not going to reach civilization! I had seen my fate laid before me, a dead corpse found in a swamp, mauled to death by some unknown beast. I was running without comprehending what laid ahead of me, and I fell in a ditch. I didn’t move.
“I head the sound of footsteps like thunder claps. The moon light revealed a dark shadow creeping towards the swamp, in my direction! I turned around, and I was in Hell! There were jets of smoke all around me, and a throng of beasts, all with sharp teeth and black eyes clawing and grinning at me. Their shrieks and moans sent me in a frenzy, and suddenly, I felt myself moving. I was being dragged along a jagged rocky cliff, but there was no one physically dragging me. I looked up, and at the foot of the rocks was Him! He was now devoid of his ceremonial garments. He had muscles like that of some inhuman Centaur. His teeth grinded against one another as he raised his hands towards his face. He was dragging me by force, by his own mental powers! He felt every bump and scratch. Look! My wounds are right here!”
I saw John lift his shirt, and Dr. Mason nearly collapsed from his chair. He removed his glasses to take a closer look. John put down his shirt again, raising his voice and this monstrous tale neared its climax, “He roared with great ferocity as the fiends raced towards me. Then, a large, monstrous, daemonic beast emerged from the jagged mountains behind Him. The Dark One saw John Helstrom, and hissed at John Helstrom, me the man who never believed. The Dark One smiled, showing its row of razor sharp teeth and its eyes like two gaping black holes with a white circle surrounding it. It’s ears were pointed like that of a bat. Like Him, he too had a muscular physique and two large wings. His skin was of a dead grey, and his voice was terrifying. No words can describe, he didn’t move his mouth. I heard it in my head! God damn it! I still hear him, right now! Right now I can hear him, hissing, growling, God almighty! He wants me! He wants me!”
John fell back and collapsed on the floor. Two of the doctors ran to the conference room. Dr. Greer tried to hold John’s head up, as Dr. Mason pressed down on his chest. I slowly looked into the room, as Dr. Greer tried to fan his hand across John’s face. John’s eyes opened slightly, Dr. Greer fell back with sweat forming on his forehead. Dr. Mason looked down at John, and he too stood aghast. I walked slowly into the room, from my perspective nothing seemed strange. But, as I walked closer, my heart nearly stopped as the horror laid in front of me. John’s eyes were pitch black.

VI.

Dr. Mason immediately walked into the room where the doctors had been staying. He shut the door behind him, and stood for a brief moment trying to catch his breath. His eyes were swelling as tears lined his lower eye lids. He nearly whimpered in fear, and stood up and pushed his shoulders back and took a deep breath. He looked at us with stern eyes, “No one, will speak of this event. No one will publish anything in regard to this event! We all must swear an oath to secrecy! Even you, Dr. Millard! Your field of expertise must continue without any written record of this event!” Dr. Millard was sitting motionless his eyes continued to look forward into space.
I was clenching my face towards my face. I was terrified beyond all belief. I felt a cold air against my neck. I didn’t know what to do next. I was frightened and speechless. Everyone got up and slowly made their way out of the room following Dr. Mason. I slowly got up, Dr. Millard remained in his seat. I slowly opened the door, and saw Dr. Greer in the same spot. Seated against the wall, staring at the black eyes of John Helstrom. I took one last look at my old friend, and his eyes blinked quickly. His fingers looked pale, as they flung against each other. I ran out immediately.
I found myself running through the corridors, bumping into patients and attendants as they hideously stared at me. I found myself in the chapel, and before the cross. The very same cross that made John collapse in tears, did the same for me. I walked up to the altar, embracing the crucified feet of Jesus the Christ. I then heard a voice, which still echoes through my head sometimes at night, it said “You are safe for now, but go as he did, and you too will never find protection from the Almighty One…”
I found myself relaxed once more. Dr. Mason eventually joined me as we sat in silence in the chapel. He turned and told me about how John had been blindfolded and returned to his room. He told me about a possible transfer to a facility in Canada where no civilized man will ever “gaze upon those devilish eyes.” I was ready to leave at that moment. I ran outside and waited as Dr. Mason had my belongings retrieved.
I sat there on the front patio, discerning what my next course of action was to be. I thought about returning to Arkham and going on with my life as if none of this had ever transpired. I considered looking up Mr. Leland and informing him of what happened. I turned and found Dr. Greer walking with an attendant with my suitcases. I asked where Dr. Mason was, and Dr. Greer said, “He is attending to that, thing! I swear, in all of my years to come, I will never set eyes on such a monstrosity again!”
Suddenly, I heard a loud scream echo through the building. Both Dr. Greer and myself ran inside. We ran to the first floor corridor, and there was a nurse screaming in hysterics as she ran away from the opened door at the end of the corridor. The door that led to John’s room. She went running to the main desk, calling up the police. I ran down towards the room, and God only knows what possessed me to do so. I will regret it, and that’s why I am writing this. I am confessing to the world, what I saw. I ran to the door, and before I entered, Dr. Mason came stumbling out with a large incision on his right hand, as blood streamed out from the wound. Dr. Mason fell, swinging the door wide opened. Before me, was the now-transformed John Helstrom. His body, devoid of garments, his fingers sharp like razors, his eyes black, and his teeth sharp. Two large wings unfurled from his back, and he let out a loud roar before turning around and flying out the window.
Since that day, I never returned to the North. That night, I immediately left aboard the next train out of the region. I spent countless nights being chased from hotels as the owners did not tolerate my constant screams and moans at night. The nightmares, oh how they have persisted. At times, when I awake from my slumber, I can see a dark figure at my window. It stands there, with that hideous grin, and all I wish was that I never opened that door to find my answer. Had I not been present at that session. Had only I remained in my seat, as opposed to finding out what happened to John when he collapsed. Only then would the damned secrets of the horrors John was consumed with have remained away from inner subconscious. They would remain far away, within the deep woods where they lurk, beyond the mountain rim.