This is a story I wrote for my creative writing assignment for English based on a game of Arkham Horror. I kind of overdid it in length... but enjoy!
Waking from a Dream
Luke Robinson became a dreamer many years ago; a traveler of paths beyond the realm of reality, an explorer of a world beyond this one . On that night, he ventured the Seventy Steps of Light Slumber, faced the trials of the gatekeepers Nasht and Kamen-Tha, and passed beyond the Doors of Sleep into another world that was called the Dreamlands. Each night, Luke would return to the alien yet beautiful land he discovered. He eventually discovered the ultimate truth that the Dreamlands were real; he could travel there physically, not just in his dreams. Luke settled his affairs in the waking world, packed a mysterious box carved with strange runes that his uncle left him, and vanished from the real world. He thought he would stay in that world forever, until word came. In the golden fields of the Dreamlands, Luke learned that a great evil was stirring from its slumber, a Great Old One whose age was that of the universe that threatens the waking world. Luke knew that he had to return to Arkham, Massachusetts to help defeat this evil. Luke knew that he could stay in the wonderful, entrancing Dreamlands forever, but he knew that deep inside, New England was still his home. And thus he headed with a few possessions homeward bound.
The journey back home took him several days and nights. He reminisced about the world he was about to leave, perhaps for good. He passed through the golden city of Celephais, through the city of cats Ulthar, and the frigid wastelands of Leng. Luke stopped only momentarily to purchase more wares from a craftsman (he knew he had to be well-equipped) and proceeded onwards. He finally exited from whence he came, passing the gatekeepers and ascended up the Seventy Steps and braced himself for the return to the real world.
When Luke returned to Arkham, he looked back and saw a roaring vortex of yellow energy swirling behind him, the gateway through which he had exited. He wasted no time in recanting an incantation that his uncle had taught him, and the portal collapsed upon itself and vanished from sight. My fate is uncertain from here on, Luke thought to himself. He could not foresee whether he will succeed in his task in saving New England and the world from absolute destruction, or whether he will ever visit the Dreamlands again. All he knew was that he had to proceed forward, and see how much has evil encroached upon this town in his absence.
Luke then surveyed his surroundings. He was on a small island, covered with dense shrubbery and weeping willows. He could hear the roar of the waves and taste the salt in the air; he was on the west side of Arkham, in an estuary where the salt water intermixed with the river. Luke did not know where to begin, but he decided that if he headed in an easterly direction he would eventually be within the city limits.
Then Luke felt it: his blood began to run like ice. He felt the presence of an otherworldly being in his presence. Immediately he dived for cover behind a moss-covered boulder, and saw through the mist a faint outline of a towering figure. It had the appearance of a rotting mummy, with a tattered shawl and bandages. Its mouth gaped open as if in an eternal silent scream, and it leaned at an odd angle, bearing an invisible burden. Luke knew that he could not fight such a creature, even armed with a few spells; the Great Library of Celephais had warned of such a powerful beast. Yet he knew that he could not hide for long, as the mummy shambled slowly to where he was hidden. Surely his destiny was a grisly death, as soon as he left the security of the Dreamlands!
Suddenly, a shadowy figure burst out of the thicket, wielding a .45 automatic in one hand, and the other glowed with a purple aura. Despite his moderate physique, he fought with incredible determination against his foe, firing away with his weapon while bolts of energy flew from his other hand. The mummy gasped and screamed with rage, at one point slashing the figure with its powerful claws. But the figure still pressed on even as his wounds were bleeding, and soon the mummy collapsed on the ground, stiff and truly dead. Luke approached the figure, as he rested against a willow trunk, panting.
“You saved my life. For that, I am indebted to you,” Luke said as he approached.
The man just nodded and then looked down. He appeared a middle-aged man of Asian descent, with short black hair and brown eyes. There was a moment of silence when the man finally spoke.
“Do you know what’s going on? About the recent happenings in Arkham?”
Luke replied, “Yes, perhaps I know too much about the threat we face.”
“Is there really a cosmic evil that threatens to destroy our world?”
“Yes.”
The man continued to stare stonily on the ground. Luke helped him treat his wounds in silence, when the man rose up.
“Your wounds are not fully treated yet.” Luke urged.
“You should not worry. I am a doctor, and I can treat myself.”
Before the man could walk away, Luke cried, “Wait! We have not introduced ourselves yet. My name is Luke.”
The man, without turning his head replied, “Vincent. This might be the last time we will ever meet, and I wish you luck. Goodbye.”
“But-” Luke started but Vincent entered the thick forest of mangroves and vanished out of sight. He sighed in disappointment, but he took comfort in knowing there were others out there who knew of this danger and are fighting against it.
Nevertheless, Luke could not help but wonder if their efforts were in vain. Even if there are a thousand like him, there was no guarantee for victory. How could they even fight, or let alone comprehend this being from beyond, infinite in scope, power, and blasphemous followers? With almost godlike powers, this Ancient One has no purpose other than to plunge the world into madness and drive the world off the cliff into oblivion. How can they stop such a force? Luke felt that resisting was almost as futile as an ant fighting against a murder of crows, a fish struggling to swim in a raging typhoon.
But Luke had to press on, even if his mind and body were torn apart by evil forces. He continued east for several hours until he could finally see the town of Arkham. It looked like any large New England town, sprawling with streets and alleys, covered with old and rundown buildings. The inhabitants were conducting their daily affairs; shopkeepers displayed their wares, newspaper boys sold the latest issues of the Arkham Advertiser, dockhands repaired their ships, and professors from Miskatonic University gave lectures to students in packed auditoriums. Yet, little did the citizens realize that their town was merely a beachhead for alien forces to enter this world.
Night was falling, and Luke knew that even if he must rest for the day, though he was unsure of whether he could sleep fitfully. He checked in a nearby motel for the night and slept uneasily; he did visit the Dreamlands, but it all seemed too detached from him as if he wasn’t in the world but merely an observer.
Luke awoke to a clear and bright morning the next day. He knew that he had to gather information to know the locations where the dimensional barriers between this world and the void were thin. He hailed a cab and instructed the driver to take him to Independence Square. It was the center of hustle and bustle of activity in Arkham and was sure to yield information.
When Luke arrived at the square, it was crowded with townspeople. A band played in a gazebo for a group of onlookers, children played baseball on the greens, and gypsies with their colorful caravans were frolicking in the far end of the square. A large monument was built in the middle, upon which there was a plaque that listed the date upon which the town of Arkham was founded. Luke mingled with the crowd and searched for anything that might prove useful. He visited a newspaper stand and browsed the latest headlines: Stock Prices Rise Even Higher, Notorious Gangster is Captured, Summer Festival Celebrates 10th Anniversary. Luke shook his head disappointingly. Nothing of importance was there.
As he was putting the paper down, a hand touched his shoulder. He swiveled around to find a tall woman staring straight into his eyes. She was dressed in a worn brown dress, with brightly colored beads around her neck carved in such shapes as owls and jackals. Her long dark hair draped down to her waist, unkempt and tangled.
A gypsy! Luke thought to himself as he stepped back. Some are known to be infamous thieves, and could not be trusted. The woman continued to stare at him intently, and Luke felt that her eyes were almost piercing his soul.
She inhaled deeply and closed her eyes. “You have seen great evil. That much is clear. Perhaps you want to see more of what you face?”
Luke hesitated.
“I am Anna Kaslow, fortune teller. I can provide you knowledge about your future, and if you wish to refuse, go ahead and walk away. I will not stop you,” the woman continued.
At that moment, Luke knew that she was speaking in earnest. He replied, “If you are what you say, show me what you foresee.”
He followed Anna to the end of the square where the caravans were gathered and sat with her on a park table. Anna brought out a small bag of knucklebones which she rolled in her hands before throwing them on the table.
She examined the bones carefully, her hands massaging her forehead as she thought.
“I see…” Anna spoke, “a house, ruined with decay and age. An old woman. And lastly, a shimmering yellow circle.”
Luke pondered a moment, but then the answer became clear. He knew where he must go next.
“Thank you, Anna. You have indeed shown me the way forward.”
Anna put her hand up. “Do not thank me. You might succeed, but most likely doom will befall on you. I do not know whether you will survive.”
Luke nodded. “I understand. Nevertheless I will continue, no matter what harm will befall on me.”
“Your future is uncertain, brave man. Though you may fail and our world swallowed by the outer voids, I shall remember your courage.”
Luke thanked the fortuneteller one last time, and left Independence Square behind. Tomorrow, he knew he had to visit one of the darkest corners of Arkham, and confront his destiny.
The next morning was oppressive and cloudy, a stark contrast to the pleasant weather of the previous day. Luke checked out of the motel he resided in and visited the nearest newspaper stand. Initially, when he browsed through today’s paper Luke noticed nothing interesting amongst the headlines. But on the third page, he stumbled upon a headline that made his blood run cold.
Mysterious Vanishing of Renown Psychologist
Authorities are baffled over the strange disappearance of a famous Arkham psychologist, Dr. Carolyn Fern, from her hospital bed this morning. Dr. Fern reportedly had suffered serious wounds and broken bones after being trampled by a violent riot that occurred in the Northside streets. Witnesses report that she had tried to stop the mob by plunging herself into it while the rioters were chanting “the Tattered king shall bring forth the yellow sign!” but was thrown to the ground and nearly crushed to death by hundreds of feet. The riot has been contained by the police and numerous arrests have been made.
Dr. Fern was rushed to St. Mary’s Hospital last night after the incident. She was unconscious and in serious condition, and it was incredibly unlikely that she could have got up by herself, much less move. Yet, this morning when hospital staff came to check on Dr. Fern, she was gone. All medical equipment appeared undisturbed and the window and door was locked. But the most mystifying find in this disappearance was a large mound of sand on the bed where Dr. Fern was recovering, with her spectacles and all her clothing left behind. The police still have yet to investigate this potential crime scene, but one doctor who chose to have his name remain anonymous told reporters that “This might sound like madness, but it was almost as if her body tissues…… were reduced to dust.”
We have more to come as this story develops.
Luke had read enough of ancient and forbidden texts in the Dreamland libraries to recognize what these disturbing signs pointed to. He now knew of the Ancient One that humanity had to face, and that it had claimed its first victim.
Quachil Uttaus was a deity venerated by warlocks and priests for millennia. It took the appearance of a shriveled fetus partially developed in a mother’s womb, wrinkled and shriveled like a mummy. Its touch turned all living matter to dust, and its gnarled hands groped and grasped for flesh for eternity. It would hunt its enemies, relentlessly stalking from the darkness in complete silence except for the shuffle of light footsteps, never resting until its victim was reduced to nothing except powder. Now, the cosmic entity was weak: it could only hunt one person at a time. But if it fully awakened, with its full power unleashed, the planet Earth would become empty and lifeless, covered with dunes.
Luke now came to fully realize the extent of this evil. If Uttaus had sealed the fate of a person, then humanity was close to its final hour.
He now wasted no time. He took a cab and urged the driver to French Hill, an infamous location in Arkham shrouded in mystery. When Luke arrived, he followed the cobbled streets and alleyways that led to the east side of Arkham. Soon the city gave way to black countryside, and by following a dirt path up a small hill he came upon a bleak and ancient cottage that was rumored to be the Witch House. The house existed in the late 17th century, when witch hunts and paranoia were at its height. It was rumored that the house was home to Keziah Mason, a feared witch who was said to have conducted dark rituals and worshipped the pagan god, Nyarlathotep. She was burned at the stake, but evil still remained in the house and Arkham residents have avoided it until this day. It was here that Anna predicted another dimensional gate lied, and that Luke had to enter to stem the tide of chaos.
Luke approached the worm-eaten doorway and opened it with a deafening creak. Inside, cobwebs and dust covered the walls and furniture, undisturbed for hundreds of years. Then, he saw it. At the end of the hallway, a shimmering yellow circle of energy hung in midair and pulsed with a force unknown yet to science. He knew that there was no other way, and after taking a deep breath, plunged into it.
Luke was thrown to the ground by the force of his entry. When he looked around him, he gasped in recognition. This was the Dreamlands! But it was not where he had treaded. He was in the dreaded Underworld, a massive subterranean network of caverns and tunnels underneath the Dreamlands. This was where the gugs, ghasts, and ghouls prowled, and the dholes burrowed nastily.
Luke could not sit back and rest even for a moment, and he got up and proceeded forward. However, he did not know where the exit was to return to Arkham. He tried to cast a spell he had been taught by his uncle, Foresee, to perhaps show the way out. But all it did was drain him. Perhaps he had forgotten the precise words to initiate the spell? Luke did not know, but he had to search the tunnels for the dimensional exit leaving the Underworld.
He journeyed through the winding paths through the earth, crossed the bridge spanning the Vale of Pnath, a massive graveyard of cyclopean bones, and made a detour around the City of Gugs all in desperation to find the way back to New England.
It was when Luke’s hope began to fail when he saw it: a swirling current of golden energy. By chance, he had discovered the way out! But that was when he noticed a figure standing in front of the exit.
The figure appeared humanoid, roughly equal in size of the average man. His skin was a sickly pale and grey, and he was dressed in a yellow and red robe with a yellow silken mask over his nose and mouth. But the most disturbing feature was his hands, which had ferocious gnashing mouths on their palms. Luke’s heart skipped a beat, as it was indeed the high tcho-tcho lama that resided in the monastery on the plateau of Leng. He had only read about such a fearsome figure in legends and tales of the Dreamlands, but none of the documents ever mentioned the evil priest ever leaving his temple. Yet here he was, barring the exit that led to the way out.
Luke tried furiously to think of a way to get past the silent tcho-tcho priest, when the priest raised his hand and the mouth on his palm opened widely and began to salivate. He did not know how he was able to keep his sanity by staying in the presence of this monstrosity, but his sense of self-preservation kept him conscious.
Then, with unnatural speed, the priest sprinted towards Luke with palms outstretched. Luke thought quickly, and spoke an incantation that immobilized the creature. The priest was immobilized for only a moment before it broke free, but by then Luke was at the vortex. The tcho-tcho lama’s mouths unleashed a last screech of fury before Luke dove into the portal and returned back to Arkham, Massachusetts.
When he returned, he immediately turned around to face the roaring space-time rift. Luke cleared his mind and chanted a spell that would seal the Witch House from evils beyond. With a cacophony of indescribable sounds, the gate shrunk and fluctuated wildly until it was reduced to what looked like a small, bright blue star with five points. It was the Elder Sign, a seal that would protect the incursion of cosmic horrors.
Gasping for breath, Luke slumped against the wall. It was eerily quiet again, broken only by the sound of his breathing. Has it ended? Was his effort enough to still the mad dancing of the spheres and the stirring of Uttaus?
His question was answered when the Elder Sign began to hum and shake. Luke’s eyes opened in wonder as a shaft of blue light from the Sign shot through the roof of the house and to the sky. He sprinted outside and looked toward the night sky above. Six shafts of such light met at a single point, like a new star in the constellation of Orion. Luke could not help but smile. He was not alone: it appeared that five others, people that he might never encounter, had succeeded against all odds. The threat to this world was banished, by the courage of the foolish few.
Luke knew that they had only delayed the inevitable. Someday, man will not survive exposure to horrors and evil from the depths of space and infinity. But for now, mankind was safe. It appeared that his business in Arkham was over. Now, it was time for him to enter the Doors of Sleep, descend the Seventy Steps of Light Slumber, and pass the gatekeepers Nasht and Kamen-Tha. It was time to go back home.
I'm glad you pointed out about the dialogue... now that I look at it again you're right, it seems slightly awkward. Thanks again!