7.a, The Mounting of Madness
Last night, I fulfilled my dream; gravity's effect was slight, almost nullified. As I flew over roofs and leaped across alleyways, my heart pitied those below. I saw how gravity affected the mortal, bounding their feet to the ground, never allowing them to grow the wings that would set them free.
During the day, I dreamed of soaring into the sky, through the ionosphere, breaking into the magnetosphere and into outer space beyond gravity's treacherous grip. Oh, if only mankind had the power to see as we do! All the entertainment you could ever desire playing out in solar systems, galaxies and into the greater universe.
If only they could jettison the dependency on the material, the commercial, what they could learn! To work with Mother Nature, not against her and improve the quality of life for all their kind across the globe.
During the day, I dreamed of soaring into the sky, through the ionosphere, breaking into the magnetosphere and into outer space beyond gravity's treacherous grip. Oh, if only mankind had the power to see as we do! All the entertainment you could ever desire playing out in solar systems, galaxies and into the greater universe.
If only they could jettison the dependency on the material, the commercial, what they could learn! To work with Mother Nature, not against her and improve the quality of life for all their kind across the globe.
But, no! Humankind, it's eyes always pointing downwards, looking at balance sheets and order books, down the corporate ladder to see who's pecking at their heels, stuck in smartphones, therein aspiring to be carbon copies of the socialmediaites they adored.
Why not look up, for once, and take in the beauty of the great unknown?!
Talking of the unknown, I was on the threshold of a greater freedom yet. Soon, I would be with someone (or something) who could open my eyes onto this world even more. To date, I had seen but a synopsis of the possibilities through these eyes. My vision still clung to the mortal concepts and limitations that they were used to; but now, they were capable of seeing so much more, if only they knew which way to look.
Billy was already awake when I raised my head from the dusty granite pillow in the mausoleum alcove, a full 12 feet above his coffin. I rolled out into space, just for the hell of it; like a cat, my feet found the floor first and instantly began to wander off to see where Billy had gone.
I remembered little of the mausoleum from last night. I was on the verge of sleep when we entered the long, low piebald building. With no sign of Billy to get answers, I decided that a dalliance into discovery was in order. But which way?
No light pervaded the dusty chamber, but Billy must have left a torch alight, burning in its sconce on the far wall, for my benefit. In truth, my eyes could see even without the flimsy light that the torch allowed, but I made to grab it anyway. As I reached to take it, another torch set ablaze about 20' away to the right.
Motion sensitive torches? Really? Or was some other hand at play, here? Still feeling as if I could take on the world and its mother, I headed in the direction of the second torch.
It lit upon a passageway that stretched for a good fifty-sixty yards, before taking a bend to the left. All of a sudden, I felt a weird, wobbling wave across my eyes, which rippled into the front lobe of my brain. My eyesight was actually seeing around the meander of the path, bending with it.
It's difficult to explain the sensation, but I'll try. Seeing bending light is like that moment just as you escape sleep paralysis. Your eyes open but, before your brain receives the optical input and, by the time the signal reaches your brain, your eyes shut again. For a moment, you are convinced you're having a psychic apparition, that you can see the room precisely with that fabled third eye. It has to be that psychic third eye, because you know your two usual eyes are clamped tight. Wherein, in truth, you are only seeing the room as it was when your eyes opened but before your brain had awakened.
Before the sensation could throw me off course, I begged it to stop; it obeyed. My eyes and mind corrected themselves, but it was at least useful to know that I had such a power,. It might come in useful if, say, I ever played tag or hide-and-seek again. I laughed at the absurdity of the thought and ploughed on into the passageway…and on…and on.
At first, the curvature of the wall was slight, but as I trudged further, the circumference of turns were becoming only-just-perceptibly tighter. I had the impression that I was on the edge of a huge spiral, that led to who knew where or what. Not only was it curling inwards, but there was also a slight degree in the earth beneath my feet, meaning I was going deeper underground.
The deeper I got, the less effective the torches became, although they did appear to be equidissent along the walls. Even my vampiric eyesight was affected, less keen in this light as it had been outside. My hearing, however, was compensating. A hissing, flopping, slopping, slithering sound was echoing around the passage, heading towards me rather than approaching from behind, the way I'd come.
The sound, I realised, had been registering subconsciously for a while, but only came to the fore now that I had stopped to consider whether to go deeper or return back to the chamber. Contained within that whispering hiss was, I eventually deduced, a message. Or rather, a warning. It was in a language I couldn't decipher, but somehow understood its meaning implicitly. Its message was simply that I should not be here, and the consequences of stepping further would be great. I didn't doubt it for a second.
I have no idea where the creature making those noises and—presumably—sending the message came from, but an image flashed into my mind's eye. It was a squid-like creature, with a huge bulbous head that almost filled the passageway at some point further along, breadth and height.
The key difference between this creature and the harmless ink-squirting creature of the Earth's seas was that all of its tentacles (and a writhing mass of other unnamable, unidentifiable appendages) protruded from beneath its beak. The other major difference was its eyes: eight of them, laid out in an almost identical pattern to those ferocious arachnids that prowled the jungles of South America.
If I had thought there were no longer creatures that would make my, mm, blood, run cold (metaphorically speaking), I couldn't have been more wrong. This creature was terrible to behold, either by the eye or the imagination.
The air in the passage was also becoming colder, its mass being forced in my direction by whatever was coming to meet me. Despite my newfound invincibility, my brain issued a stark warning, backed up by the creature's growing aggravation. Did I dare stay a moment longer and try to recall that ability to bend my vision to take a look at my wouldbe assailant. Every nerve in my body screamed No!, but what was the point in having such an ability if you didn't use it in circumstances like this?
I gathered myself, stood directly in the centre of the passage and 'sent out' my third eye. Within but a couple of seconds, I actually saw the creature for real. It was even more abhorrent than the image I'd received moments ago. Every bit of the slimy creature glistened when the struggling torchlight lit upon its skin, or membrane or whatever covering kept that writhing mincemeat of tentacles and head from splitting asunder.
As my sight brought the creature into view, it visibly recoiled, as if throwing my sight had struck it with a tangible force, to which the creature took great offence. At once, its broader tentacles began to unravel from beneath its beak. They were as thick as conifer trunks and, Oh! were they were quick?! A second later, I saw them for real, without the aid of bending sight, scuttling along the walls of the passage forty-or-so yards away, like some acne-covered skateboarder on a wall of death ride.
Stand my ground to fight and face the consequences, or run? I didn't know if even my speed could outstrip those converging, wriggling tentacles, but I had to try. I turned and fled, pushing my legs, torso and arms faster than ever before.
The tentacles were drawing closer with every second. Only my ability to run on the walls and ceiling themselves helped me to evade capture by those snake-like appendages. But it was a losing battle. More of the tentacles were following the forerunners, squirming along the floor, up both walls and across the ceiling. I was about to concede defeat when a vision of Billy appeared out of nowhere, filling my third eye completely. Relief was almost my downfall, but I was not safe yet.
As soon as he sensed he had my eye and focus, he began to look away to his side. Slippage! I put everything I had into a leap of faith and jumped at the corner of his eye. It was a strange sensation: like being present, but in another place entirely, a ghost, if you will.
In the blink of an eye—literally—I was back in the mausoleum chamber. A second or two later, an echo of those tentacles clapping together (I guess around the empty space I'd just vacated) came roaring around the passage and burst into the room. I looked up at Billy, who looked as if he didn't know whether to laugh, cry, shout or crumple in relief.
"Let's get out of here, Billy!", I screamed, tugging at the ruff around his cuff. He shook his head and cupped his hand around his ear, urging me to listen. I did as bade and heard the hissing, whispering slither quieten; the creature was retreating, much to my utter relief.
"What is that thing?" I asked Billy.
He projected a picture to my mind of the creature lifting its beak. It had a double row of teeth, their canines pronounced, just like mine.
"That thing is a vampire?" I questioned, astounded. Billy nodded, smiling. "What's it doing here, where it can get to us when we're asleep?"
Another image, this time of a priest, complete with a crucifix, stake and a vial of holy water, being devoured by the creature.
"It's a guard dog?" I asked, astonished, but becoming more immune to the incredulity of what I was hearing, the more I heard. "What's to stop it attacking us?"
This time, Billy projected the image of what I first thought of as the creature, but then two of them, side by side. One was locked in a room, deep at the heart of that spiral passageway. Then, another image, this time of the two of the creatures together in that room. It wasn't making sense.
The next image was more frantic. I thought Billy was showing me them fighting, but then it dawned on me: they were actually mating. Should I have been repulsed? Maybe, but it only struck me as natural. Both of the creatures looked content, despite—or because of—their internment.
As I thought this, Billy swapped the roles of the creatures in my mind, the other behind bars, its mate devouring the priest. Hapless, but happy, victims of a ransom that suited all parties: protecting vampires as they slept, but away from scornful eyes that would mock their appearance, their very being. Now, it made sense.
Billy flashed one final image, one I'd seen before, this of the rogue vampires feeding on the cattle on the edge of the estate, before turning off the ethereal picture show. The creatures had been vampires, but something had rebelled along the way. The message was unspoken, but clear: there's no way of knowing what will happen to you if you accept the gift, but then let it drive you beyond control and a descent into madness.
No wonder Billy took his time in the recruiting process. That realisation did, however, make me wonder what sort of person I was in my previous life if he thought me fit for the appointment he'd made mine. On that note, it was definitely time for us to leave.
Why not look up, for once, and take in the beauty of the great unknown?!
Talking of the unknown, I was on the threshold of a greater freedom yet. Soon, I would be with someone (or something) who could open my eyes onto this world even more. To date, I had seen but a synopsis of the possibilities through these eyes. My vision still clung to the mortal concepts and limitations that they were used to; but now, they were capable of seeing so much more, if only they knew which way to look.
Billy was already awake when I raised my head from the dusty granite pillow in the mausoleum alcove, a full 12 feet above his coffin. I rolled out into space, just for the hell of it; like a cat, my feet found the floor first and instantly began to wander off to see where Billy had gone.
I remembered little of the mausoleum from last night. I was on the verge of sleep when we entered the long, low piebald building. With no sign of Billy to get answers, I decided that a dalliance into discovery was in order. But which way?
No light pervaded the dusty chamber, but Billy must have left a torch alight, burning in its sconce on the far wall, for my benefit. In truth, my eyes could see even without the flimsy light that the torch allowed, but I made to grab it anyway. As I reached to take it, another torch set ablaze about 20' away to the right.
Motion sensitive torches? Really? Or was some other hand at play, here? Still feeling as if I could take on the world and its mother, I headed in the direction of the second torch.
It lit upon a passageway that stretched for a good fifty-sixty yards, before taking a bend to the left. All of a sudden, I felt a weird, wobbling wave across my eyes, which rippled into the front lobe of my brain. My eyesight was actually seeing around the meander of the path, bending with it.
It's difficult to explain the sensation, but I'll try. Seeing bending light is like that moment just as you escape sleep paralysis. Your eyes open but, before your brain receives the optical input and, by the time the signal reaches your brain, your eyes shut again. For a moment, you are convinced you're having a psychic apparition, that you can see the room precisely with that fabled third eye. It has to be that psychic third eye, because you know your two usual eyes are clamped tight. Wherein, in truth, you are only seeing the room as it was when your eyes opened but before your brain had awakened.
Before the sensation could throw me off course, I begged it to stop; it obeyed. My eyes and mind corrected themselves, but it was at least useful to know that I had such a power,. It might come in useful if, say, I ever played tag or hide-and-seek again. I laughed at the absurdity of the thought and ploughed on into the passageway…and on…and on.
At first, the curvature of the wall was slight, but as I trudged further, the circumference of turns were becoming only-just-perceptibly tighter. I had the impression that I was on the edge of a huge spiral, that led to who knew where or what. Not only was it curling inwards, but there was also a slight degree in the earth beneath my feet, meaning I was going deeper underground.
The deeper I got, the less effective the torches became, although they did appear to be equidissent along the walls. Even my vampiric eyesight was affected, less keen in this light as it had been outside. My hearing, however, was compensating. A hissing, flopping, slopping, slithering sound was echoing around the passage, heading towards me rather than approaching from behind, the way I'd come.
The sound, I realised, had been registering subconsciously for a while, but only came to the fore now that I had stopped to consider whether to go deeper or return back to the chamber. Contained within that whispering hiss was, I eventually deduced, a message. Or rather, a warning. It was in a language I couldn't decipher, but somehow understood its meaning implicitly. Its message was simply that I should not be here, and the consequences of stepping further would be great. I didn't doubt it for a second.
I have no idea where the creature making those noises and—presumably—sending the message came from, but an image flashed into my mind's eye. It was a squid-like creature, with a huge bulbous head that almost filled the passageway at some point further along, breadth and height.
The key difference between this creature and the harmless ink-squirting creature of the Earth's seas was that all of its tentacles (and a writhing mass of other unnamable, unidentifiable appendages) protruded from beneath its beak. The other major difference was its eyes: eight of them, laid out in an almost identical pattern to those ferocious arachnids that prowled the jungles of South America.
If I had thought there were no longer creatures that would make my, mm, blood, run cold (metaphorically speaking), I couldn't have been more wrong. This creature was terrible to behold, either by the eye or the imagination.
The air in the passage was also becoming colder, its mass being forced in my direction by whatever was coming to meet me. Despite my newfound invincibility, my brain issued a stark warning, backed up by the creature's growing aggravation. Did I dare stay a moment longer and try to recall that ability to bend my vision to take a look at my wouldbe assailant. Every nerve in my body screamed No!, but what was the point in having such an ability if you didn't use it in circumstances like this?
I gathered myself, stood directly in the centre of the passage and 'sent out' my third eye. Within but a couple of seconds, I actually saw the creature for real. It was even more abhorrent than the image I'd received moments ago. Every bit of the slimy creature glistened when the struggling torchlight lit upon its skin, or membrane or whatever covering kept that writhing mincemeat of tentacles and head from splitting asunder.
As my sight brought the creature into view, it visibly recoiled, as if throwing my sight had struck it with a tangible force, to which the creature took great offence. At once, its broader tentacles began to unravel from beneath its beak. They were as thick as conifer trunks and, Oh! were they were quick?! A second later, I saw them for real, without the aid of bending sight, scuttling along the walls of the passage forty-or-so yards away, like some acne-covered skateboarder on a wall of death ride.
Stand my ground to fight and face the consequences, or run? I didn't know if even my speed could outstrip those converging, wriggling tentacles, but I had to try. I turned and fled, pushing my legs, torso and arms faster than ever before.
The tentacles were drawing closer with every second. Only my ability to run on the walls and ceiling themselves helped me to evade capture by those snake-like appendages. But it was a losing battle. More of the tentacles were following the forerunners, squirming along the floor, up both walls and across the ceiling. I was about to concede defeat when a vision of Billy appeared out of nowhere, filling my third eye completely. Relief was almost my downfall, but I was not safe yet.
As soon as he sensed he had my eye and focus, he began to look away to his side. Slippage! I put everything I had into a leap of faith and jumped at the corner of his eye. It was a strange sensation: like being present, but in another place entirely, a ghost, if you will.
In the blink of an eye—literally—I was back in the mausoleum chamber. A second or two later, an echo of those tentacles clapping together (I guess around the empty space I'd just vacated) came roaring around the passage and burst into the room. I looked up at Billy, who looked as if he didn't know whether to laugh, cry, shout or crumple in relief.
"Let's get out of here, Billy!", I screamed, tugging at the ruff around his cuff. He shook his head and cupped his hand around his ear, urging me to listen. I did as bade and heard the hissing, whispering slither quieten; the creature was retreating, much to my utter relief.
"What is that thing?" I asked Billy.
He projected a picture to my mind of the creature lifting its beak. It had a double row of teeth, their canines pronounced, just like mine.
"That thing is a vampire?" I questioned, astounded. Billy nodded, smiling. "What's it doing here, where it can get to us when we're asleep?"
Another image, this time of a priest, complete with a crucifix, stake and a vial of holy water, being devoured by the creature.
"It's a guard dog?" I asked, astonished, but becoming more immune to the incredulity of what I was hearing, the more I heard. "What's to stop it attacking us?"
This time, Billy projected the image of what I first thought of as the creature, but then two of them, side by side. One was locked in a room, deep at the heart of that spiral passageway. Then, another image, this time of the two of the creatures together in that room. It wasn't making sense.
The next image was more frantic. I thought Billy was showing me them fighting, but then it dawned on me: they were actually mating. Should I have been repulsed? Maybe, but it only struck me as natural. Both of the creatures looked content, despite—or because of—their internment.
As I thought this, Billy swapped the roles of the creatures in my mind, the other behind bars, its mate devouring the priest. Hapless, but happy, victims of a ransom that suited all parties: protecting vampires as they slept, but away from scornful eyes that would mock their appearance, their very being. Now, it made sense.
Billy flashed one final image, one I'd seen before, this of the rogue vampires feeding on the cattle on the edge of the estate, before turning off the ethereal picture show. The creatures had been vampires, but something had rebelled along the way. The message was unspoken, but clear: there's no way of knowing what will happen to you if you accept the gift, but then let it drive you beyond control and a descent into madness.
No wonder Billy took his time in the recruiting process. That realisation did, however, make me wonder what sort of person I was in my previous life if he thought me fit for the appointment he'd made mine. On that note, it was definitely time for us to leave.
« « Chapter 6
Updated 6th May, 2020, by yours truly.
ReplyDeleteIntroduction to Perveen withdrawn to next chapter.
Insertion of Cthulhu type creature brand new to this rewrite.