Tales From the Weird - The Larry Czerwonka Company LLC
Transcription
Tales From the Weird - The Larry Czerwonka Company LLC
Tales From the Weird A COLLECTION OF SHORT STORIES Dhruva D. Sulastri The Larry Czerwonka Company, LLC Hilo, Hawaiʻi Copyright © 2016 by Dhruva D. Sulastri All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system, without written permission from the publisher. For information email [email protected] This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. First Edition — January 2016 This book is set in 12-point Garamond Published by The Larry Czerwonka Company, LLC czerwonkapublishing.com Cover art by Mallion Printed in the United States of America ISBN: 0692600698 ISBN-13: 978-0692600696 For Al-Boy, David, Rasi, and Stephanie 1 ~ Introduction 4 ~ The Poetry Stone 6 ~ Green Lake 16 ~ Tale of the Corpse Plant 42 ~ Figure Beneath the Window 48 ~ The Intrepid Hitchhiker 72 ~ Vistas of the Padded Cell 74 ~ Shades of Paradise 86 ~ Battle of the Screaming Souls 104 ~ The Lonely Wild 128 ~ Proprietors of the Concrete Dawn 158 ~ Behind a Backwards Sun 160 ~ Message of the Muscle Twitch Introduction The world we live in is a strange and weird place. We might not notice it as we go about our daily routines of work and relaxation, but the unknown is always there, lurking just beyond the threshold of our inadequate perceptions. The uncommon sense that something fantastic or dreadful might be nearby observing us with curiosity or cruel indifference is a primal fear; a memory of some frightened thing in hiding while beasts of living nightmare prowled about. Yet it would seem the beasts of nightmare have never wholly left us, tramping on through the endless ages in lonely places, hidden away from the harsh scrutiny of the public eye. Stories abound with frightful creatures or apparitions of the dead fill every culture on every part of this planet, so it is only natural that such fascination lies in the realm of the unknown, in the world that lurks just beyond sight as we stare out from our dull prisons of normalcy. What is daily life for something that lives wild and free, held by no boundaries of law or social influence? What does the elusive Sasquatch contemplate as he broods atop his lonely mountain? Does he recognize beauty in his silent nature retreat; is he a poet in his own right? What of the Mo’o, the Lizard people, the Nagas that live deep within the earth? Countless legends from numerous cultures speak of these beings. Are they akin to the human race? Are they a true evolution of bipedal species, downsized from their lumbering ancestors? What of the other races deep underground that the ancients speak of, of giants and people with blue skin in the hollow regions of the planet’s core? Now rip your thoughts out from of the inner earth and fly deep into the vastness of abysmal space, where stranger things can be found than this singular world can claim. An infinity of beings and moons and planets and stars and galaxies stretch off into the far reaches of reality, whilst man fumbles about on his planet, eating, drinking, excreting, reproducing and dying; always with his face towards the ground. Refusal to acknowledge that something out of the ordinary exists does not render that thing nonexistent; it merely renders oneself limited in thought and imagination. To willingly stifle one’s gain of knowledge on the basis of the lack of tangible proof, or the necessity of a worldwide consensus through the security of majority belief, is a devolution on the expansion of humankind and consciousness. There are many things that we recognize today that if you brought the concept of up to someone, say, two hundred years ago, they would have called you mad, and you might even have been outcast from the social scheme of the time. The same still pertains to this modern era. We are so assured of our technological advancements that—to the average person—it seems preposterous that there could be anywhere in the world that we cannot scan or locate or scrutinize like some ethereal God. And yet there are still undiscovered tribes of people in secluded places living as they have for thousands of years, or ruins from civilizations that stretch back through the eons, shattering with discovery the theories of modern science and humanity’s historic timeframe. The world is too large to be wholly claimed by the likes of mere man, for all its secrets to be laid bare by such a blundering and ignorant species of simple survival. Be assured, my friends, that you should never assure yourself of ultimate knowledge of the things about you, of some finality or cap to your wisdom of life and death, or of what is real and what is not. If you do, you will go through life without wonder, with no amazement at the strangeness of the mere act of breathing. To think that we are the only intelligent creatures on this planet, in this galaxy, or in this universe is inexorably boring. It is somewhat of a comfort to think that if there is a higher intelligence looking down upon us from out of this world, whether it is life from another solar system or some unexplainable entity, that no matter what, they have the technology or the developed senses to understand our conceptions of them. And it is strangely reassuring to me that if aliens can study us, then they can also study our media, and they have seen what a Wookie is. And the world grows ever weirder… Dhruva D. Sulastri 12-13-15 The Poetry Stone There is poetry deep within every page that you must, with pen, shape and chisel away; to fill with glowing fields of night and observe the sun through veils of shade. To wait with patience until the want inside becomes desires haunt, then with feverish hands cast mind away and type upon forbidden things. Sit quietly and stare out at scenes of home and think of things that bring life to stone, as mountains rear and illusions flee and fabulous things wake from slumbering dream. To catch the daemon in its frenetic flight and give form to the life of the black of the night; to sail through the seas of the stars of strange galaxies and depict what is seen on the lowest of planes. For there is attraction in which a life decays and for the average mind an exotic fantasy; of someone who sees the dark of the light and the chill that it brings under trees in the day. But from the up-to-date dull comes vile conceit, from the ones who understand not what the artist perceives. They ridicule and rant and label him weird for they see not the hand above guiding their steer, and thinking the choice of opinion is theirs, they recklessly write-off what doesn’t fit their prayers. But what they cannot take from him is that what cannot be seen; the limitless realities for one whose thoughts can conceive. So chisel the stone upon which our karmas entwine for the words that you speak gain new life out of mind. For what makes a man barely more than a beast?—verbal communication and the will to write what he sees. So describe in a way what you cannot describe and put feelings to words that take off in flight; from books which lay quietly untouched where they sit, as ghosts we must be amongst technology’s crypt. Green Lake Damned is he who lies down to sleep and awakes to the familiarly foreign places of dream. Lonesome is the one who abides along putrid pools in odd twilight hours; who wanders aimlessly through grotesque fantasies of jungle clad craters in which forbidden bottomless lakes lie. For that is the place I found myself one sweltering tropical night, befuddled as to how I had come alone to the abhorrent spot at such a disquieting hour of evening. I gazed out across the waters of the mirrored pool, my imagination bespeaking the invisible leering of hideous observers just below the surface— ghastly creations left over from an age when man coexisted with the sea on a much deeper level. I had visions of sunken aquatic temples fathoms below where titanic idols were worshipped by octopod-like devotees in shrines of antiquity. I shuddered at the thought of caves and caverns connecting to the ocean large enough to house the movements of ageless leviathan gods. A golden glow atop the waters roused my attention as I espied across the lake a single hut with a window spilling its light out into the hazy gloom. In all my years of coming to this place I could not recall ever having seen a dwelling of any kind. Which was perplexing as the state of this shack was one of obvious decay through long rotting years of liquid assault. I curiously made my way around the broad expanse, half nervous with the thought of the uncouth aspect of whatever type of wretched being I would encounter inhabiting this phantasmal abode. For what type of person could willingly live in these squalid type conditions? There were known droves and filthy communes of dissociative troglodyte-like youths in the surrounding areas, but none were ever allowed to set up camp along this particularly auspicious body of water. This place was sacred to the ancients and not to be disturbed, which is why the appearance of this crumbling shack intrigued me so. As I made my way around the north-eastern edge of the lake, I heard what had to be the lone piping of some sort of nocturnal bird. The noise grew louder as I drew closer to the shack, emanating from some yardage off to the right through the thickly growing ground foliage. The sound began to morph into the throaty cough of a wailing child choking and gasping for air. I rushed headlong into the dense vegetation, heedless of the razor grass slicing like paper cuts through my skin and the hundreds of tiny barbs left embedded from the biting touchme-nots. I ripped through a particularly tight woven mass of stinking vines into a small trampled clearing, in the midst of which lay the grotesque originator of the mournful wailing. The creature, whatever it was, was young and most likely just out of its weaning stage, which accounted for its frightened and helpless demeanor. The thing was not small in size, as expected from its apparent age of neglected infancy, it being nearly four feet in length with its limbs fully out-stretched. The overall appearance was vaguely humanoid in the head and torso yet in place of the arms and legs of a bi-pedal species it had the eight sucking tentacles of an octopus. Two flailing feelers replaced each arm while the other four comprised its squirming legs. The form of its gelatinous body alluded to the utter absence of bone structure throughout. Its skin had a rubbery pale-green hue that turned to a sickly white on the belly and face. But perhaps the most frightening and repulsive aspect of this impossible creature was its alien-like visage. It had two long almond-shaped eyes that pointed menacingly downward on each side of its bulbous head. There was no noise of any kind, the bottom half of its face splitting up into another eight miniature tentacles from the center of which a vicious beak-like mouth vocalized its frightful agony. I reeled backwards in utter loathing, wanting nothing else than to be away from the hideous blubbering being. But halfway back through my newly ploughed trail I felt a wave of obligatory pity that helped wash away my repulsion somewhat. I could not simply leave this creature out here to die, no matter how wretched or detestable it seemed. Maybe it was the lost pet of whoever dwelt in that mysterious abode? Or maybe it was the twisted creation of some mad jungle scientist? No matter what it was, it was helpless and in need of rescuing. Hardening my heart and stomach, I walked back and stood above the sobbing infantile octopod. I crouched down and began to scoop my hands under its many flopping tentacles, but this interaction spurred it into a startling response. It leaped at me with sudden ferocity and wrapped its many suckered limbs around the base of my torso, bringing its face inches away from mine and screaming its putrid breath into my lungs. I closed my eyes, trying to put my fear in check as I began to convey soothing sounds of reassurance, even reaching up and stroking the back of its squishy head. It slowly quieted and even began to stroke my face with its searching tentacle lips. I opened my eyes and saw a look of love in its deep gaze, but that look was quickly replaced by fear then wailing sorrow. But the creature felt safe enough to release its grip on me slightly and willingly gave itself over to my care. I resumed my trek to the shack bearing my new burden. Wondering if the land owners would think me mad to come waltzing up to their house in the middle of the night with a large distressed squid-child in arm. Looking up above the haze I saw the rising moon, yellowed and large and just beginning to loom over the edge of the canopied crater rim. The surface of the lake was serene, yet nonetheless I could not help but feel a nervousness and impending danger as if from some unknown onset yet to be revealed. It was as if something full of unrestrained anger and malevolence was coming from somewhere and would soon be unleashed directly upon me. I broke into a run straight for the dilapidated shack, heedless of the cries of the being I swore to protect and stumbled breathlessly up the uneven steps and onto the porch. I began pounding loudly on the door and hollering wildly for help but no reply came from the silent cabin. I tried looking through the curtained window but could only make out a blurred, dimly-lit room. I resumed my pounding with a new flurry of attacks, my fear slowly building to hysteria, until reaching down I turned the knob and swung the door inward, spilling the light out into the night like a beacon to anything with searching eyes. I rushed inside and slammed the door, yelling for help and turning to find the single vacant room devoid but for a single gas lantern on an antique desk. The creature leaped from my arms and rolled on its tentacles quickly over to one corner. I found nothing else upon closer inspection of my new surroundings and so turned back to my attempts to soothe the frightened thing. But this time I met with no success as the infants’ wailing cries grew louder and my resolution began to falter. It was then that I began to hear a low murmuring, as of the sound of a large pot of water coming to a boil. The noise grew louder as I went to the window and peered dreadfully out. The once placid surface of the lake was now roiling and pushing itself upwards, successfully expanding its circumference inch by bubbling inch. Then the large things began to flop out from the fathomless depths. In the darkness, I could see hundreds of squirming bodies, my imagination affiliating the attributes of the infant with that of the larger adults. And these were much larger, nine to ten feet from head to tentacle, yet shrunken down to roughly the height of a man as they verily rolled around on their undulating limbs, searching this way and that in a maddeningly frantic way. Then that helpless creature I had taken on reached a new decibel in its alarming screech, drawing the attention of the closest octopod people as they responded with similar gurgling ululations. All at once they turned their attention to the hut and began to converge on my location. I quickly killed the lamp and peered out the window again, only to see hundreds of glistening monstrosities moving as one around the lake under the moonlight. Fear tightened my throat as I almost wretched from the overwhelming shock of my approaching doom. I remained frozen in place for an eternity, stricken as I listened to every audible noise with a horror and dread that I never thought to know. The sound of creaking boards and popping suckers outside roused me from my stupor as I ran to the front door and slammed the single bolt into place. This elicited a roaring chorus from my assailants as they began flopping against the outer walls, their many tentacles searching every surface in hopes of finding an opening large enough to fit the width of their beaks. The entire edifice shook as more and more of the creatures piled up onto the porch. Reaching feelers began to squeeze through the cracks, groping blindly in the dark for their human target and filling the room with living horror. I looked down to the inky corner and saw that even the infant had taken on an aggressive opposition towards me, sensing from its elders the overpowering hatred for the one alien thing amongst them. I had succeeded, in a way, in reuniting the hapless creature with its kind, but I now had to escape their misconceived wrath. The flimsy door began to creak and groan on its hinges, splintering with each resounding heave of the bulky, boneless bodies. With a surge of desperation, I grabbed the extinguished lamp and sent it sailing through the small window, completely demolishing every inch of glass in its rotting frame. I leaped headlong out the opening just as the door behind burst open, allowing the ghastly horde to pour into the stinking hut. I fell maybe ten feet to the noxious mud, landing flat on my back and knocking the air out of my lungs. Gasping in copious amounts of fetid atmosphere, I rolled onto my stomach and saw that all the octopods had gathered around the front and sides of the swamp house, strangely leaving this side unguarded. I struggled to my feet and slipped quietly away along the north-western edge of the water. The only escape out of the damnable crater was towards the south-east and I hoped to go unnoticed around the further side to keep out of sight of the frenetic mob. I had not stumbled far when I heard a loud splash from somewhere behind followed by a sickening plop. Another creature emerged from the water a hundred yards to the south. Before I could even think one came bursting out and landed in the muck right next to me, its large eyes locking with mine and reflecting celestial images of the stars above. The thing slowly rose up on its four large base legs, throwing its upper arms to the sky and heralding with odious fish-breath my sealed doom. I ran, my fear like a tangible thing bursting out of every pore and crawling over my wretched skin. I scrambled up into the forested valley to the west, my legs pumping till I could climb no further. Quickly I turned to face my foe and make some sort of stand upon my new high-ground. I was elated to find that the creature was still some distance behind; its slow grab-rolling momentum not able to keep pace with that of a running man. But my elation soon turned to horror as the bulk of the creatures from the attack on the dwelling were now swimming en masse to the opposite side, anticipating my movements and attempting to cut off my every hope of escape. I quickly struggled awkwardly along the steep slope, my fear redoubling with each aqueous sound emitted by the unnatural beings. I knew if I could just reach the southern end of the great bowl the incline would be gradual enough for me to make my ascent up the green mountain. I raced along, ripping through the dense foliage and stumbling through tightly grown bunches of slender trees. Tentacles and searching things in the dark shot out from the shadows as the creatures were suddenly all around me. I ducked a whipping arm aimed viciously at my head and went down, tumbling through the dirt back to level ground and mercifully putting a distance between my abhorrent assailants and myself. I bolted through a clearing near the lake and bounded breathlessly up the trail leading to the lookout on the mountains ridge. I could still hear my pursuers moving through the trees with single-minded purpose as I stopped to catch my breath. They were terrifying beyond anything I could ever conceive and menacingly deadly yet I could outrun them. As long as I didn’t let them corner me I could yet escape these ancient creatures of the deep. I gave no thought as to how I was going to make my descent down the outer rim of the jungle-choked crater; the lookout was merely the furthest place I could get from the squirming nightmarish horde. I finally arrived at the top of the ridge and stood upon the edge, my heart sinking as I gazed out over the distant green landscape. The sheer drop on the far side was much higher than I remembered, the tops of the waving trees eerily swaying far below. I looked both ways along the cliff but nowhere could I see a decline. And then I heard it. The ground trembled at its approach as the very winds on the mountainside shifted, sending flocks of nesting birds to scramble into the sky on an unexpected flight under the moon. I watched in mute horror as the waters of the lake abruptly rose up in one unbroken body, then came cascading down around the head and shoulders of an unspeakable titanic nightmare. The surge of the deluge reached half way up the bowl of the crater, then rushed back down to swirl and lap against the beast of the nether. The forest below came to life with writhing feelers as the octopod minions had finally gained the mountain. The massive creature suddenly reared up to a new height and, throwing back its head, roared up to the sky. The sound shattered the heavens and resonated through to the very depths of the cosmos. My mind must have snapped at that point for the next thing I knew I was crashing through the tops of trees and painfully cracking from branch to branch until I landed in a heap at the base of the mountain. I mindlessly picked myself up and shambled out into the open papaya patch. When I had limped a fair distance through the field, I chanced to turn and look back at the horrors I had escaped. And there, high up on the ridge could be seen the squirming arms of the octopod men, some moving to and fro, some standing still as stone. But all were staring directly at me with eyes ablaze under the gibbous moon. I felt a warning to my very soul as a massive black shadow sank below view behind the leering cephalopods. Madness overtook me again as I staggered away, not knowing if I was alive or dead, conscious or travelling through subconscious, but I knew this; that I would never go back, in waking life or in dream, to the place known as Green Lake. You have arrived at the end of the sample. If you would like to purchase Tales From the Weird you can Order it online at: http://dhruvasulastri.com/order.php