1 Chapter 1: Into the Cradle of Madness

I stood on the empty shore, hearing the thundering rumble; that insidious drumming of hellish fiends consuming the corners of my mind. Shiver, as chilling as the winds of most northern lands crawled down my spine. My bloody eyes, widened, wet, stared at the incoming wave of destruction; the dark abyss of water rising, and rising before me. Soon, the horizon drowned, a shadow creeping over the beaches as the enormous wave rushed to meet me, countless feet tall.

But, before I could feel the blast that could wipe cities, I gazed at the black abysmal emptiness. The wall of water turned black like an ink. Like a hole which swallowed me, silencing the chaos in the blink of an eye.

I found myself floating, like a helpless being trapped in an unseen cage, unable to move, to speak or even twitch. My sight became dripped in stars, and comets, and nebulas of burning colors never seen by ordinary men. I felt cold, alone, worthless. And the universe heeded my thoughts.

And reality warped like a swirling vortex, consuming me in realms so terrible that I wished for my everyday nightmares to come back and bother my mind once again.

There was a wall, an endless barrier of a million naked arms, clutching and grabbing as if they were longing for my approach. Then a blast of blinding light and a dark realm of most terrifying proportions. Endless tunnels of asymmetrical patterns, geometrical shapes far stranger for my too primitive mind to comprehend. Dark, colossal drains of slimy matter, engulfed in fog and peculiar lights of color I had never seen. The abyss exploded in a mute, fiery wave, opening itself like a curtain being pulled to reveal the next act of madness. And I saw people. Dozens, maybe hundreds, roaming aimlessly around the streets of Rhode Island. There was something... off about them. Not until I took a few steps further did I realize the terrible truth. Some of them were eyeless, others tearing their eyes out to join their brethren. Screams, moans and growls overwhelmed my ears and I pressed my hands against them. My knees were greeted by the ground as I clutched my teeth, begging for it to end and I felt the liquid flowing like a raging river beneath me. A river of blood and countless eyes floating as they were passing by, almost looking as if staring back at me.

The sight suddenly warped, as if the entire universe was swollen and my ears buzzed with such an intensity that I thought my head would explode. The pain. The agony. Oh, that terrible suffering. It was consuming me. I felt like a helpless pawn in the games of higher beings. I closed my eyes, pressing them hard as if begging myself for all of it to end.

It was then when I felt a warm breeze on my cheek. The screams of people instantly faded away, as if cut by a heavy, vaulted door, leaving only the hum of sea waves clashing against the shore.

Darkened sky, woven with black clouds carrying thunder and flood succumbed the world in shadow. A howl of winds, as if it were a pack of wolves whistled, carrying a strange scent; a miasma of rotten fish, decaying flesh and burning meat.

I stood on the barren ridge, gazing in terror as a cyan light of fell energy devoured the horizon of the raging ocean. It swallowed the sky; a wool of beams cutting through the storm clouds. And before me, on the very edge of the dark rock, stood a man.

He was tall, slim, his long, worn coat wavering like a torn flag against the wind. I could not see his face, for he was too staring at the crippling lights in the distance, his raven hair chaotically dancing with the gushes. Although it was warm, my blood was frozen. I swear I could feel my limbs becoming numb. A hole, some... emptiness was spreading in my guts. My heart was uneasy, thumping like a stampede, punching hard against my chest. Fear. It was devouring me. Unimaginable fear. A parasite clouding every rational thinking. Uncontrollable dread.

As I raised my hand to grab the man's shoulder and turn him to see his face, a sudden pain dashed through me. My vision blurred and I heard my teeth cranking. I wondered if he endures the same agony as me. But, the face that greeted me was one of nightmares.

"Howard..." I barely forced myself to utter. My eyes widened in shock.

My very own brother, the one whom I haven't seen for a year, stood before me. But, he wasn't the same man I used to grow up with.

A sunken, dried up face, blasted by storms and a sight full of horror and despair stared back at me. His twitching lips seemed warped, curved in an unnatural open position. But, what shook me the most was the other side of his face. There was no skin. No human one, at least. His entire right side of the head was covered in algae, scales as dark as midnight and disgusting, green slime flowing through the gaps.

" It's waiting for you...".

Howard raised his twisted arm and pointed at a huge island that suddenly emerged from the fog in the distance. A menacing, dark behemoth crawling out of the depths.

Although it looked like just any other island, chain of behemoth mountains glanced back at me, as scary as the incoming storm. But, no. No. It wasn't the mountains. Or the emergence of an island from beneath the waves. It was something else. A hidden dread, so powerful and so unknown, that I began to lose breath. I narrowed my eyes, gasping, trying to analyze the enormous piece of land before me.

It did not take me long to realize that it did not belong to this world of men. Monstrous angles and stone surfaces, bending in impossible forms as if they were made by a matter too strange for mere men to understand, engraved with dreadful imagery and hieroglyphs that could cause the bravest souls to fall apart. Every single piece of it seemed... wrong to my eyes. Abnormal, non-Euclidean shapes; monstrous orbs of strangest dimensions and pathways which confused my orientation teemed across its surface.

Even from far away, there was something inside of me, a hunch, some primal instinct to survive, which begged me to go back. But, my eyes were frozen. Caught by a web of horror and... curiosity to explore this new emergence.

"Find me!". Howard grabbed me by the neck and pulled hard, my face meeting his own. A most terrible mask of the man I used to know, his eyes consumed by a madness I have never seen.

I woke up with a scream.

***

The annoying ringing of the old clock left on the nightstand ruined my sleep in the morning. I barely opened my eyes, feeling exhausted, my whole body trembling. As always, I lied in my bed for some time, staring at the ornate, wooden ceiling made by old sculptors and artists my grandfather knew during his youth.

I always admired art, wondering how much inspiration, dedication is required to produce such a masterpiece. The best artists poured a piece of their soul during the creation of such work, a unique touch led by emotions. But, no. I had never been good in art. I tried painting once, although it turned out my hand strongly refused to follow the concept engraved in my mind.

The clanking of hooves came from the huge window on my left, on the other side of the room where a faint gleam of light penetrated the darkness inside. It did not take me long to realize it was one of the many chariots constantly moving up and down Westminster street in the early hours of dawn.

Wishing to waste no more time beneath the warm sheets which seem so alluring, I got up, put on my wool pants, shirt, my favorite black vest and a wool jacket. I polished my shoes afterwards. After all, I was quite a popular man, an ideologist, a proud historian and professor at the Miskatonic university in Arkham. Well, at least I could say I was. For those days seem so long gone in my tired mind.

A few years ago, I resigned from the university after many, tiresome persuasions by my colleagues. They thought I am no longer fit to study, to teach, to unveil those mysteries of the ancient past. I did not want to go at the beginning, you see. All my life I had studied, worked hard to earn that place at the university. It was all I ever dreamed of. And yet, I must say there were things which maybe sometimes bothered me, especially during the deep hours of the night. I had dedicated my entire existence to my job, you know. My obsession with history, a past long lost and the study of ancient figurines had casted me away, far away from the lives of other men. I barely had any friends. I never even had the opportunity to experience love with a woman. This life had made me a stranger in my own world, a man too shy and insecure to try and cope with the rest of civilization. So, I often locked myself in my room, diving my head deep in books and literature, shaping my own worlds and characters with whom I can relate.

But, do not be mistaken, that was not the reason for my resignation. Although some of the colleagues saw me as an alien, a freak (and it did not bother me), they had a great respect for my efforts and knowledge I shared with my students. No. That was not the issue.

A year before I was fired, a group of colleagues, archeologists, geologists and engineers, brought before me a most peculiar object. I was asked to do a detailed analysis on the figurine, determine the exact date of creation, its origins and try to find a connection in the long past of humanity.

I do not know if you would believe in the words I am going to tell you, but I care not. For I know that in my mind, these memories are magnified to a degree that I feel lucky not to have been consumed by utter madness.

The statue that was brought before me had the size of my palm. Glancing upon it woke up a strange, unfamiliar curiosity in me. But, there was something else. I could feel it in my gut. Like itching, in the back corners of my mind. I felt cold, almost freezing, shivering of fear as if suddenly I was the only man standing in the entire world, feeling lost, helpless, worthless. Staring at it, I could feel my limbs tremble for no reason; some uncomfortable feeling as if something slithering up my spine. For a moment, it looked as if the stone figurine was staring back at me and I found only emptiness, an utterly strange menace in the eyes of the monster.

It had a vaguely anthropoid shape, an octopus-like head resting on its giant shoulders. Its face was a chaos of feelers and the form of a scaly, rubbery-looking body. Behemoth claws adorned the hind and fore feet, while long, narrow wings cast shade at the bent being. It represented a true mockery of the human form, a smash of octopus, dragon and grotesque human caricature.

As I examined it, looking for any clue as to establish its exact date and origin, the flaming, unknown fear and uneasiness became even stronger. I could feel my heart pounding, every single lock of hair raised on my body, my lips trembling for no reason. It was definitely not an artifact of the ancient human civilizations.

Besides my vast knowledge of history, I also had an extensive knowledge in geology, having graduated university a few years later after my first.

The first thing that popped in my mind was to further analyze the strange shape under a microscope. But, the glimpse at it on a much smaller level only brought an utter confusion in me. What I previously thought was a mere rock, it turned out to be a material I had never seen before. It resembled a rock, but its structure was nothing alike. It seemed as hard as diamonds and yet, it felt light as a feather in my palm.

I discussed this most peculiar figurine with my colleagues at the Miskatonic University. But, it seemed all of them were baffled by the discovery, completely lost to finding any answers of its origin. It was mentioned to me that it was taken from a group of savage ritualists and worshipers on the shores of Pohnpei Island. One of my colleagues, Mr. Jacob Brownings, mentioned a most peculiar worship, one he had witnessed nothing alike. He said they spoke a tongue, which sounded like gibberish at first for it did not resemble any known language to man. But, after careful observation and analysis, Mr. Brownings firmly states that it was definitely a language, one of many guttural sounds and strangest pronunciation, but a language nevertheless. As the group of explorers approached the cult, they were attacked and chased away. Luckily, none was hurt, but from what he saw, Mr. Jacobs mentioned animal and human sacrifice. Of course, everything was reported to the authorities as soon as possible, but the people of Pohnpei did not find it strange at all. It was almost as if they were acquainted with the situation. Judging by the ornaments and countless algae, clam shells and rotting fish, he made an assumption that this cult worshiped some kind of a sea god.

We analyzed the sample for a week, various scientists providing explanations and solutions to uncover this mystery that had befallen upon us. All sorts of tests were done to establish the matter, the substance of the figurine. However, the deeper we delved, the more confused we got by our research. And I must say, these people were some of the most brilliant minds you could find.

One by one, they gave up. Many of them thinking it was pointless wasting any more time. Tasks were piling up, new archaeological diggings were brought from Mexico and that was it. But, as much as I wished to leave this fascinating artifact, there was... something, always pulling me back to it. I found myself thinking of it while I was eating, while working, even before falling asleep. I might say I was obsessed with it.

And I approach the moment of my resignation. Bear with me, for the last few days of my life at the Miskatonic University turned into a terrible, torturing nightmare. Was it my maddening obsession to find the answers? Or maybe the thing that I was never used to leaving my work behind until it was finished? Or perhaps, it was something.. else.. Some thing unseen, like a web of tentacles wrapping around my mind, pulling me strongly, making me think of this terrible, mysterious sculpture every waking hour.

The nightmares occurred briefly after that. I found myself working long due my work hours, alone in the lab on the campus, doing everything I could to unravel the secret of this object. As the deep hours of the night crawled away, I inspected, researched and analyzed every tiny piece of this.. horrible fiend. There was this feeling, this burning in my chest, waking like a bursting volcano every moment I walked away from it. It was almost like an ecstasy. And yet, if I say that I felt excited or pleased, that would be a lie. I felt helpless, like a bird in a cage, unable to run away from its influence, its terrible, eldritch beauty. Fear. Fear as if the entire world would crumble down forced me to work. An unimaginable fear that felt like it would tear my heart out of me. Was I imagining things? Was I going mad? I do not know. That was an experience, terrible one, but one in a lifetime.

I swear I could see figures in the corner of my eye, shapes, too vague and too unnatural for my thoughts. Twisted, black, slimy silhouettes in the dark corners, the abyss, staring back at me. And yet, there was none there when I would flinch in panic.

I barely forced myself to go back home. Walking up Westminster street in Providence in the deep hours of the night had never been harder. I've walked this street for a thousand times and that day, it felt like it stretched to eternity. I swear I could feel the dark alleys and the black shades expanding, devouring the light of the street lamps, like a shadow of a colossal, invisible beast coming to consume me. Everywhere I turned, a bad itch would agonize my limbs, the hair on my neck rising as if there were a thousand, ominous gazes locked on me. Although, the street was no different than any other day when I used to stroll, this time, it was so different that I felt like I would go insane.

Entering my apartment, I immediately locked the door. Left the tall hat I used to wear outside on the lockers and headed through the narrow hallway to the living room. A brief sense of calm went through me. As if all the worries vanished the moment I locked that door. Feeling the lump in my neck loosening, I sat on the bed with a heavy sigh. Instinctively, my hand went for the jacket pocket, pulling out the creepy, ancient figurine.

" Who are you..." I uttered, intrigued, playing with it through my fingers. Then I left it on the nightstand and fell asleep.

Colors I have never seen, whirlpools of twisting space and deep, gurgling sounds filled my mind as I sailed through the dreamscape. I found myself floating in the abyss, naked, cold, devoured by a fear that I might not come back. The guttural resonance of a thousand voices was becoming stronger and stronger, like a choir of the unseen damned, whispering in my ears. And yet, I was alone, in a place so peculiar and alien, that I thought I would get lost in this obscure atrocity.

"Ph'nglui mglw'nafh Cthulhu R'lyeh wgah'nagl fhtagn" the voices chanted, over and over again, until those words were welcomed by my consciousness and I got used to hearing them. They were crying out in an endless, bizarre loop, every utterance becoming louder like the screams that echoed inside me. Tears blurred my eyes as I stood there, helpless, like a pup left alone in the big world.

And the landscape wavered, as if space were a mighty ocean disturbed by stranger winds. Water suddenly flooded my lungs. I thought I will drown. In a blink of an eye, I saw darkness in front and below, azure colors and dancing lights far above me. I was sent in an instant to the depths of the ocean, although where, I did not know. Sensing the last breath of air fading away, I closed my eyes. Fear clouded every inch of my being. I woke up with a scream.