|Søk i stiler|
Jack Walter er privatdetektiv. Hva synes dere om teksten så langt?
Jack Walter had received a phone call from a police officer earlier. It was about a community complaint against a certain cult. Supposedly they had been wreaking havoc throughout town, but only recently did they get violent. The police officer told him that the cultists wanted to speak to him and when he asked why they started shooting. Jack got into his black Lincoln 1928 model and drove off.
After 30 minutes of driving he finally caught a glimpse of the eerie mansion on top of the hill. The mansion was built in 1896, which explained the various holes in the building. All the windows were barricaded with wood and some with bricks. As Jack drove up the hill he eventually came across the constable who signaled for him to pull over. Jack got out of his precious Lincoln and walked towards the officer. He would seem old at first glance but he was only 46. The weird moustache and beard was what made him seem old. He was about 1.95m and one would notice at once his bulky shape. A lack of muscles some would say. Before Jack could say hi, the officer guided him towards the mansion. He was informed that these cult madmen were armed and dangerous. Jack looked around and he saw several illuminated eyes popping out of the holes in the mansion. They weren’t the eyes of and animal or a human but something else. Something menacing...
The officer along with Jack had reached the main door though one would hardly call it a door. The thing standing between them and a way in was a miniature barn door with one half obvoiusly broken and leaning slighty towards him... As soon as they entered the building they heard a large bang and some screams outside. Someone had been shoot. The other police officers took cover and began firing while the police officer panicked and ran. Ran to his own demise. He was so arrogant that he didn’t realize how old this building was. He ran onto a spot of weak floor wood and fell through. Jack ran over to the termite filled hole and looked down into what resembled a basement. No one was there.
Jack, even though he was noxious, continued onward. He held his left hand on his trustworthy revolver. He starred down the eclipsed hallway. On the walls beside him he saw writings. They were on the line between gibberish and language. Not words, but not nonsense either. He took the first door to the left and was amazed by what he saw. A room of him, pictures taken from last month. There was a chalkboard. His daily schedule, what he would do and when. It even had the time he went to brush his teeth and when he showered. Jack shivered at the thought of what these lunatics wanted with him. Walter turned around and left the abnormal room. He went into the next room. This room was filled with blasphemous paintings and some chairs and a desk upfront. Much like a town hall. The paintings were macabre. Jack could make out a slight hint of two eyes and what seemed to be a set of conspicuous tentacles. All of the paintings were exactly the same, except for one. It seemed to be a drop of blood but with further inspection one could make out its true figure. An eye. The eye pierced through Jacks mind and into his very soul. Jack fell to the ground, his legs trembling like an earthquake. After a few seconds in the realm of utter fear, his mind recoiled with reality. At last he forced his bones to lift him off the ground. His feeling of being petrified vanished in a blink as soon as he got out.
Jack continued his venture through the rooms in the hallway. Many of them were locked and some that were open, held a chamber of disceased people. The Cultists had killed them selves. Some, if not all of the bodies were rotten and the stench was nigh unbearable. He could finally spot a door at the end of the luminous hallway but only one more door remained before he could venture down to the last door. He opened the door before him and starred in. ´Hello Jack. we’ve been waiting for you.´ said a white clothed man. `A cultist.´ Jack thought. Walter then said ´How do you know my name and what do you people want with me!?´ The white cultist picked up his rifle and began once more firing at the police. Just as he was about to give Jack the answer he longed for, his head was pumped with cold hard lead. The poor detective puked. This house was to much for his 50-year old body and mind. Jack did not run but walked out the door. His heart beating rapidly, he thought it to be a heart attack. He looked to the last door and his pains went away. He was drawn toward the metal door at the end of the hallway. A door solely created of metal. Flourishing with curiosity, Jack opened the door.
Jack now saw stairs leading down ´A Basement´ he thought. ´ Might as well..´ he let out in an exasperated sigh. His journey down into the basement was wrought with danger. He had to continue cautiously for the stairs were wooden and filled with termites and maggots. He looked at the walls beside him. Dark wooden planks filled the walls as he realized that this tunnel was not natural. It had indeed been dug out. Mr.Walter starred behind him as he thought something was dwelling in the shadows. He had begun to develop a form of paranoia by now. Poor fellow. He finally reached the end of the horrid tunnel and saw once again another door though not a door at all it seemed. This door was not metal, nor any other earthly material. It was a dark green door with strange writing carved into it. Though his attempts at trying to rid it were but naught he could make out some English words. It read in a near scrubby text `Beware for they reside here´. ´Damn it... This cant possibly be good for my heart..´ he thought. Jack opened the seemingly last door and heard the large screeching sound of the door. His eyes absorbed the light of the room and saw clearly what it was.
The room he had entered was a chamber. A green, algae filled room and in the middle a tall table of sorts. He walked over to it and stared at it. In the middle of this rod there was a green crystal inserted in a hole, which was placed in the middle of the table. Out of his own curiosity, he turned the crystal side ways and heard a large ´CLICK´. Jack was surprised to see the wall ahead of him open up. He could not examine what lied inside the wall so, like any other would have done, walked up to the former residing place of a wall and starred at a round gate. It was a round thin gate with many alien letters inscribed into the ring itself. Another table, much like the last one, had another key crystal as Jack began to call it. He rotated this one to the right and not left hoping for a different result. Possibly a quick way out of the damned house, but such a miracle did not occur. The gate did indeed open itself but on the other side of the gate was just the other side of the circle. As Jack began to turn and run upstairs once more, the supposed useless gate began to rotate the symbols written in it. It seemed to be locking up some of them by making them glow a green, menacing light. Suddenly the inside of the circular gate filled with blue material. It seemed to be water at first glance but no it was not. It was unearthly. Jack began to run towards the door but only now did he realize that the door was no longer there. The wall that concealed the gate had to go somewhere and it went to the back of the room covering the door. Walter’s legs failed and he fell down. He noticed something walking out of the gate, or at least two of the things. All he could do was stare at the formerly marked useless gate.
The preternatural creatures that walked out of their realm and into ours were horrid. They had very long necks and very cruel eyes. Much like the one he found before---. Their hands lacked a finger and they had a strange limb sticking out of their elbow. It resembled that of a wing or a shark fin. They lacked a nose but had two holes in the spot that a nose was usually placed. On top of their heads they had something that resembled and elephants trunk but a bit shorter. The visitors skin colour was green. A mutated green. Jack thought them to be fish men for their strange characteristics. One of the creatures walked towards Jack. The fish man stared into his poor Mr. Walters eyes. It was as though their green eyes pierced through flesh and into soul. A bright light covered Jacks mind, as he was about to pass out. Then came a sound. ´BRIIIIIING`
Jack looked down. He did not see an alien creature but rather this astronomical pool of drool on his desk. For a moment there was silence but then the sound came once more. ´BRIIIIIIIING´. The magnitude of the sound eminating from an object in the proximity forced his head up and espied the family photo on his desk. There was him on the left, his 18-year old son John in the middle and his lovely wife Margaret on the right. ´BRIIIIIIIING´. He finally noticed that his phone had been the obstacle that awoke him. Walter waited a moment to get his senses intact. He then remembered the house. The awful house that drove him to an asylum. His hands still shaking, he managed to pick up the phone.
´Hello? Private detective Jack Walter speaking.`
` Good morning sir. I’m inclined to ask for your services. The local shopkeeper has disappeared. He’s my cousin you see and he has various enemies in my town for he spoke the name of God too many times.` said the ancient creaky voice.
` I see. I’ll need your telephone number and address.´
´ Dunsmouth. The poor souls name Robert Wellington.´ replied the coughing voice.
‘Hello? The idiot hung up on me! Oh the nerve of it all!
Can’t be sitting here all day anyway so guess I have to..’ Jack sighed an irritated sigh. As he started towards the exit, the thought struck him that his dream was no lesser dream but rather a reminiscence of his visit to that cursed Arkham Mansion. His vivid thoughts were quickly dismissed as he turned the knob on his plain-white door.
Jack left his ‘oval office’ and headed out of the building and began to ask directions to dunsmouth. After what seemed to be a year of people shunning him, he finally found a buss driver who drove by Innsmouth on his daily route. ‘So you’ll take me to Dunsmouth?’ Jack asked. ‘Aye, hop on’ the buss driver said in a suspicious voice. The driver wore a green garb, he was a tall and thin character. He had long scruffy hair and a beard whereas you could hide a cat in. An old man in his late fifties at most was Jack’s guess. Not wrong at all. As Jack stepped in the red, small vehicle he felt a weird feeling passing up his neck. A strange sudden feeling of emptiness creept down his neck like rain drops from the skies.
Chapter 3: A Visit to the Old Town
As they drove across counties Jack began to wonder where Dunsmouth lied. Of course it was in Massachusetts but the scenery was getting darker for every mile. In the beginning they drove through towns and endless fields but now everything was gone as if the very Earth had begun to rot away. Jack turned his head upwards to see the stars, only to see naught but nothing. An unwelcome silence was broken when the buss driver began to talk.
‘I gotta warn you. Them Dunsmouth folks don’t take kindly to strangers. They certainly are strange nowadays. Before the epidemic of 1846 that town was a thriving port. Nearly a city I tells’ ya. Some of ‘em have queer narrow heads with flat noses and bulgy, stary eyes that never seem to shut, and their skin ain’t quite right either. Rough and scabby, and the sides of their necks are all shrivelled or creased up. They have a tendency to get bald at a young age too. The older fellows look even worse but the fact is that I don’t believe that I’ve met an old chap. I suppose they don’t get very old in Innsmouth. Guess they must die of looking in the mirror! The Animals hate ‘em too. They used to have lots of horse trouble before them automobiles came.’
‘Hey, is there a hotel or motel in Dunsmouth?’ Jack questioned.
‘Yes, there’s a hotel in that acursed town. It’s called the Gilman House. But I’m afraid it can’t amount up to much. I wouldn’t advise you to try it. Deter it, I would.. Better to stop at one of them outposts on the road and then take the ten o’clock buss tommorow morning. I say this because a factory inspector once stayed at the Gilman a couple of years ago and the poor guy came back and seemed to be lacking a soul. The fellow was sent to a institute of the insane. Arkham asylum is the name. All the doctors got out of him was that at night he would say weird things. He said he heard voices in the other rooms. He described them as unnatural, slopping-like. He informed the doctors that he didn’t even undress and go to sleep that night. He just stood, waiting, listening, hoping that the voices would end but they lasted through the night.’ As Jack listened to the drivers ridicilously queer words, he thought back to that night in the mansion in boston. He recalled the alien figures communicating. Sloppy-like as the factory inspector had mentioned.
After what seemed to be decades of conversation the buss stopped hard. Jack tenaciously held onto the pole nearest to him and asked the buss driver what he was doing. ‘The town is a 5 minutes walk from here. This is as far as I go. Good luck.’ Walter got a chill down his spine. Why not drive all they way in or at least to his hotel he thought. As soon as he left the blood red buss, the buss driver grinned in a way so evil that it would kill a snake. With that the buss showed Jack the meaning of haste and left.
Walter began his journey through the town. A recon of sorts. He spoke to every carbon based organism he met even though some did not reply. Those that did reply, replied with a sharp grunt or ‘Theres no one here by that name. Leave.’ He picked up the feeling of being shunned. He went by the grocery store where Robert had worked and walked up to the door half torn doorway. Walters blue eyes noticed the standard police tape saying ´Crime scene, Do NOT Cross.´ Though his mind pleaded for him to run, he put his handle on the death-cold door knob. As they say, Curiosity killed the cat..
An unseen force prevented his advancement. Jack stared at the door believing that he had not put the accumulate amount of force into it. He began again, his hand turning clockwise. The door did not move. Jack, mourning the death of an opportunity, did not notice the heavy foot steps advancing towards him from behind.
´Watcha doing here,boy?!’ a half-sluggish voice questioned. The newcomer was wearing a blue garb, black shoes and a top hat of sorts. His features were rough, as though he had just got up from a one hour sleep. The man had certainly not shaved in a month nor taken a shower. The policeman had short black hair turning out to all sides in seek of water one would guess. Jack, obviously shocked by the mans sudden appearance, replied with as much calmness as a dog is with his toy, ‘Umm.. H-Hi. I´ve been sent here to check on that missing clerk.´ The policeman´s eyes met his and they fought a dead-silent battle of wits. Jack noticed the oddly greenish-blue eyes and peered into them in seek of a soul. His attempt was futile. Jack, giving up, just said ´ Could you point me in the direction of the Gilman House?´
Jack had received directions to his location and did indeed follow, but not before he took a peek at where the man dressed in blue went. Down an alley. Walter´s experience of alleys were intruiging. From personal experience, he knew that every alley lead to an alternative entrance to something. He had snuck into buildings plenty of times by using the trusty alley. He even snuck away from his wife´s sisters when they were visiting, by using the back door.
The Gilman House would be a thing of the future. Right now, Jack sought to reveal to himself what everyone in Dunsmouth was trying to bury from his sight.
Kommentarer fra brukere
Ingen har lagt igjen kommentar til denne artikkelen - bli den første!
Obs! Meldinger som ikke omhandler oppgavens innhold slettes. Det samme gjelder meldinger uten stor grad av saklighet.