Chapter Three - Section One

Nathan glanced at Jones before looking straight ahead at the black sky. Rain fell like tiny drops of lead, hitting the floor with an unrivaled intensity. The lead drops dug away at the road, making it muddy and making it incredibly difficult to traverse. The automobile slid slightly to the left and right, almost spinning out of control. Finally, Jones stopped the car in front of another dock. He cocked his head and turned to face Nathan.

"My boy, I don't like it when strangers ask about m' business. I'll advise ye to stop befer I get angry. Now, then, let's get out." Nathan was disturbed at the behavior of Jones, and had many thoughts of running away. However, rationality got the best of him, and he get out of the car to follow Jones. He placed his feet on the muddy earth and circumscribed the automobile. Jones walked heavily, his feet hitting the floor in indescribable anger. He turned his head around to give Nathan a deathly stare and continued on. They both strolled on in uncomfortable silence. The rain bore heavily upon them, only adding more tension.

After what seemed like aeons of searching aimlessly for some magnificent location, Jones stopped. He said nothing nor did he speak. Nathan, somewhat concerned, asked, "Jones, are you alright?" Jones gave no reply. Again, Nathan asked, despondent, "Jones, please say something. Anything will suffice." Jones's eyes widened, and suddenly turned completely black. He began to mutter:

"By the gods, old and new, I pray for ye to come to our aid. I invoke but a name most holy. May your hand, lord, come down upon us and show us our fate..." Jones continue on while Nathan listened frightfully. However, it was not that speech that gave Nathan the chills, rather, it was what Jones continued on to say. Jones started to speak in unreproducible tongues, and Nathan could only understand some of it.

"Haruch danug jeytus nemius. Kom beyanka hiter nedach kai teru gesug beyanka. Shew vir eur haand, kai bekomm vir eur tuur."

The rain continued, albeit heavier, but otherwise there was no extraordinary development. Jones slouched and stood in place for aeons. The harsh weather began to respond to the ghastly language that Jones used because it began to grow unbearable. The torrential downpour caught Nathan off-guard for his legs gave way. Regaining his balance, Nathan managed a meager yelp, "Jones, what in God's holy name are you doing? You're making matters only worse."

"Just ye wait," was Jones's only reply. Without any rhyme or reason, the rain ceased. The once drenched landscape now became most arid and comfortable. Jones turned to Nathan and said, "Nate, you've seen what I can do. Those tings, those terrible, murderous beings were summoned through my own fault, ye hear?" Jones's hand began to twitch in a disturbing fashion. Nathan backed away in horror as the convulsions grew worse. Jones's hand now seemed grotesque to Nathan as his eyes grew in fear. Grasping his temples, Nathan fell to the floor, writhing in unearthly pain. He pressed his fingers into his temples hard enough to pierce the skin. Jones was unsure of what to do, but he could not let Nathan destroy himself, so he tried to pry Nathan's hands away from his temples. Pulling as hard as he can, he eventually managed to end this streak of apparent illness. However, Nathan was still acting as if he were under a spell. Jones picked him up and slowly made his way over to the automobile. He softly placed Nathan in the passenger's side.

Chapter Two -- Section Four

Nathan turned to the old captain, and he looked into the captain’s eyes once again. His thin masquerades opened greatly and now resembled those of an owl. The winds kicked up, whirling past Nathan and the captain and ruffling their clothing. The already dilapidated pier was now gradually crumbling due to the violent waves. The indescribable beasts waded slowly to the shore. Onto the green ground they trotted, waving their fish-like hands in the air like madmen. The captain grabbed Nathan’s shoulder and pulled him as he ran towards an automobile parked close to the road.

“This automobile is mine. Come on, sonny, get in,” shouted the captain, “We need t’get outta here befer those bastards get us.”

Nathan jumped through the window, landing awkwardly in his seat. The captain allowed a few seconds for Nathan to fix his posture before turning on the engine and riding off. The captain drove frantically onto the road, looking behind him to scout out the location of the sea-beasts. They were still far behind. The captain turned to Nathan and said:

“You can call me Jones.”

Nathan nodded and looked down at his feet. His bag was between his stiff legs. Nathan loosened up and the bag dropped to the floor of the automobile. He turned to Jones and told him that his name was Nathan. Jones was not one for being formal, so he insisted that Nathan should go by Nat or Nate. Nathan did not like either, but Jones decided he would call him Nat. After a few moments of silence, Jones turned to Nathan and said:

“Those tings we saw back there, they were my fault.”

Nathan replied, “What? How so?”

“I called ‘em up from th’ deep. Those disgusting children of Poseidon…” Jones trailed off. He looked forward at the road. It seemed to run on forever, leading the two of them to insanity. Trees adorned the sides of the road along with bushes and the occasional spattering of dying flowers. Jones looked out of the window at the sea. The grey waves crashed against the side of the cliff, etching its presence there forever. Again Nathan inquired:

“How did you call those…things?”

“Aye, I can’t tell ye. ‘Tis a secret my family carried through generations. It would be sacrilege to tell anyone.”

Flustered, Nathan spat, “Sacrilege? Those infernal sea-beasts slaughtered an entire port city and you think it’s sacrilege to tell me how you are responsible?”

Jones looked into Nathan’s eyes and then turned forward again. He answered simply, “Yes.”

Chapter Two - Section Three

Nathan slowly maneuvered to the long dark bend that lay in front of him. It’s foreboding presence only grew heavier as Nathan got closer. Though he had a loaded shotgun in his hands, the weapon did nothing to console him. Watching his fellow man being slaughtered in front of his eyes did nothing but harm his psyche. The trees grew larger as he wandered ever closer. Their omniscient eyes were all fixated on Nathan, never relenting as he invaded their territory. Suddenly, Nathan heard slow crushing footsteps sounding from behind the trees. He heard twigs snapping and leaves crumbling underneath feet which were not human. Heavy and monolithic, the steps grew louder. Nathan froze. He frantically looked in all directions around him, desperately looking for the source of the noise, but this was to no avail. Instead of waiting to find out what exactly caused the noise, Nathan bolted for the bend. Away he ran, past the foreboding trees with their punishing, omniscient eyes, away he ran from the dark and now deserted town, and away he ran from the monstrous spawn of Poseidon that killed many innocent folk.

The road seemed to go on forever. He came to winding sections after winding sections. He heard no more footsteps behind him but his own. Nathan put down his bag and pulled out some provisions. He took a bite of a blood-red apple, the juices flowed down his lips onto the pale grass below. Suddenly, a distant sound captured his attention. He looked in the general direction whence the sound erupted. It occurred again, this time Nathan could make out some distinct qualities; it was similar to that of wood snapping, only amplified. It did not make any sense. However, still poised, Nathan decided against his common sense and trekked over to the location whence the sound was born. Clenching his shotgun tightly, he peered over some tall rocks to see farther. He could not see anything. Farther he proceeded, ever so cautiously until he heard the snapping of wood again, still just as loud. As he walked closer to the origin of the noise, he noticed a dock, made of wooden planks. Waves crashed against the pillars holding up the dock. More and more of the pillars snapped from wear, tear, and age. Shafts of wood fell into the black sea, leaving no trace of their previous existence.

On the edge of a dock stood an elderly gentleman, about seventy years of age. He had hair as white as a ghost and severely tanned skin. He had the appearance and bearing of an old sea salt. He wore a navy blue overcoat with gray trousers. He looked like an ordinary captain, but his eyes were weathered gray. They were but voids into barren thought. His lips curled in disgust as he spat into the ocean and turned around. He looked at Nathan for a second and said:

"Go away. Poseidon's wrath is here, escape while ye can. It won't be pretty, I assure ye, son."

"Sorry, sir, captain, may I ask what you are doing here?"

The old salt replied condescendingly, "Whaddya tink? I'm watching my precious sea being swaller'd up by Poseidon himself. The ole' bastard's out to get us."

Nathan thought the old man was insane, but considering what he saw back at the town, he was willing to humor the old man. He inquired simply:

"Why?"

"'Cuz he hadn't been worshiped for thousands o' years, now he's out to get us. Ye've seen those disgusting faceless creatures back at the Wharf, aye?"

"Yes, I have. Now what does that have to do with-?"

The old man interjected, "It has everyting to do with this damned mess. Those slimy bastards are nothing but pain 'nd death. That old shanty shotgun o' yers won't do a damn ting to them. Give it up, sonny."

Sorrow and regret filled his eyes. His voids opened wide as he began to stutter uncontrollably. Out in the distance I could make out some humanoid figures. The walked up out of the water onto the shore. They had no faces.

Chapter Two -- Section Two

Nathan had finished packing what he thought would be useful in escaping the port city. After witnesses several countable horros, he felt he had no choice but to leave before those decrepit and disgusting creatures lay their hands upon him. Wielding a shotgun, he felt somewhat safe but not assured completely. As he cocked the gun, he felt the casing drop to the floor menacingly. The echo of the metal against the cool, hard floorboards struck Nathan immensely. He was a little disturbed, but he must keep his cool lest he die like all the other unaware people in the town.

He quitely crept out from the door of the pub. He looked to his left: nothing but fog and a few streetlights. He then look right: it was the main road, the way to salvation. Dotted along the side of the road were some homes, none of which look liked they were the victim of the monsterous invasion, thus it was safer to take that route. Along he scrawled about the side of the road, ever vigilant. He walked no more than fifteen meters when he heard hard footsteps in the distance behind him. The steps grew heavier and more numerous with every step Nathan took. He turned around to see the creatures have made their way for the homes on the side. In fear and disgust, he watched hopelessly as about forty beasts crammed into one home. Blood splattered on the attic garret. Blood ran through the walls, seeping out onto the side of the home. The atmosphere grew more punishing as he watched his fellow man slaughtered like nothing better than the ordinary farm animal.

"Sickening. Just absolutely horrifying. I cannot watch, I cannot. I must move on, move foreward." That was Nathan's mantra. He repeated it to himself as he slowly made his way towards the end of the main road. He found himself at a bend in the road. Their were trees decorating both sides of the road, thus he could not tell what lay behind them. Making this turn was dangerous but necessary. His heart pounded, harder and harder it pounded as his feet magnetically made their way to the bend. He could see freedom, but he could sense death.

Chapter Two -- Section One

"Sonny, I do believe ye just crossed a line, and it's one ye don't want to cross. I'd advise ye to back off and inquire nothing of me anymore," spat the sailor, obviously offended, "and by the way, if I see the likes of ye around here again, I wouldn't bet on yer survival." Nathan, not wanting to infuriate the seaman any further, backed away slowly. Suddenly, the sailor slammed his palm against the bar counter and stood up abruptly. He turned around and calmly walked to the restroom. The door slammed shut behind him. Nathan decided it was enough for the night and retired to his room. After shutting the door, he quickly changed into his night-robe and slipped into his bed.

The clouds darkened and rain began to pour. Everything from the rooftops to the trees were soaked. The waters on the shore rose a few inches higher and it continued to rise. The rain only grew heavier and larger in size. The water rose and rose till it was about six inches off the ground. Out of the ocean rose beasts never seen by the likes of man before. These creatures had two fins, one on their backs and another on their bellies. They had webbed feet with sharp nails. Their necks were one foot long. Their arms were four feet long and their hands consisted of three webbed fingers with more sharp nails. Their faces had no visible features. There were no eyes, no mouths, and no ears. Out they came, one after the other, like an army invading another country, the soldiers had a thirst for blood in their eyes. Out they crawled slowly until they came to a house. The pounded at the entrance until it gave way. Then the grotesque creatures meandered inside by the numbers, filling the home beyond capacity. After several minutes, the soldiers of the deep emerged, soaked in blood.

They went to homes upon homes repeated their infernal blood ritual. Nathan awoke with a sweat on his brow. He felt a strange sensation with no equivalent. His hands trembled, his feet pulsated, his ears rung, his nose flared, and his pupils dilated. Startled, he stumbled towards his one lowly window to see what was the matter. He pulled back the torn curtains and peered out the glass. To his horror, he saw the terrible creatures walking like the dead. They were bathed in blood and made their way towards the pub. Nathan wasted no time for he threw on a fresh pair of work pants and a sweater. Now was not the time to be formal. He ran downstairs and shouted, "My God, good folks in this inn. You must get up, do not wait any longer. Creatures of Satan spawn are on their way to mutilate and gorge on us. We must gather supplies and weapons to fight back." No one answered. He could not wait, albeit flustered, he broke open the storage room door. He picked up a shotgun, a rifle, some ammunition for both, a backpack, some fruits and nuts, and a pack of cigarettes.

Chapter One -- Section 3

The man's name was Nathan Summers. He usually was not one to investigate something as fanciful as what he heard in the pub, but the details seemed too close to what he read in a paranormal journal many moons ago. At the time he dismissed it as hogwash and said nothing more about it. However, now that he had a first-hand account, he began to think differently about this situation. The journal told of a similar statue but with less detail than the sailor. It mentioned it was made of stone and the several deformities in its shape. Still, this was nothing but a statue and no harm came because of it. The seamen saw something out of the ordinary and rose hell about it, nothing more. However, Nathan still wanted to ask the sailor some questions. He was of a slight muscular build, wearing a semi-tight two piece with a burgundy tie falling between his jacket innards. He walked with a slight limp due to some surgery in his right leg. He was wearing a black bowler with a single white stripe decorating it. He was clean shaven and he had a youthful look to his face.

Nathan approached the sailor that just spoke and inquired, "My good sir, I'm quite curious about what you saw, could you clarify certain details for me?" The sailor looked a little stunned. He still had not completely recovered from the alcohol. He gave Nathan a bewildered look. He opened his mouth to speak, but only a grunt escape. The sailor cleared his throat and tried again.

"Sure, why not sonny. Hmm, where shall I start?"

Nathan replied, "Could you tell me about the weather that night? Was it raining?"

"To me memory, I believe 'twas pouring. Aye, it was. Not heavily, but enough."

Nathan again inquired, "Ah, I see. Also, how large is the crew?"

The sailors face contorted as if he were about to vomit, however he mustered up enough gall to respond, "I would reckon about a dozen of us. Yes, I reckon that be about right. Now sonny, why did ye ask that? It seems a bit odd don't it?"

Nathan was not expecting to be asked questions by the interviewee. He did nothing but shake his head. The sailor said, "Sorry to alarm ye, continue."

Nathan, without missing a beat, followed up with, "Now, sir, this is a more personal question, excuse me if I'm crossing a boundary, but are you sane sir?"

Chapter One -- Section Two

Some of the frightened sailors made way into the local pub. These seamen had no family to speak of so they would spend their holidays drowning themselves in beer and liquor. However, between swigs of alcohol, the sailors told other, unenthusiastic patrons of their harrowing tale. Because of its fantastic nature, few opened their ears. However, there were those who were interesting in the adventures of these drunken seamen. The bar was scantily furnished with seven barstools and one fireplace. The walls were made of redwood and thus were reasonably well insulated. A few of the chairs were missing legs and were replaced by very off-color sticks found about the surrounding area. Some of the upper shelf may consider this incredibly tacky, however, for the poorer folk whom were the primary patrons, this did not matter. It was a cozy place, and in addition, also had rooms available for rent upstairs. The rooms were eight foot by seven foot, not big, but comfortable nonetheless. The beds were but a step up from ordinary cots, and the pillows smelled of alcohol and salt. The covers were not exceptionally warm and could not conceivably keep you at a reasonable temperature during the extreme cold. All the rooms had one window looking out at the bay and one cabinet that could hold a sparse amount of clothing.

One of the inebriated sailors marched in an awkward line towards the middle of the room. Words scurried out of his mouth like a swarm of confused roaches. They at first made little sense, but he started to sober up and his mood changed from a jolly drunk to a more and more afraid child. Eventually he began over so that people could now understand him.

He restated, "Ah, ye kind gentlemen. Would ye not sit yourselves and heed my tale? Aye, these words I now come forth with are nothing but the truth. Aye, no lies. My crew and I are nothing but lowly fishermen, that we are. Usually nothing of note occurs, but tonight, oh tonight, I can't express it. Anyways, gentlemen, open yer ears and heed me. Out by the Sourfish Islands, only one mile off shore, we witnessed something not of this earth. We saw a large statue, molded into the form of a deformed man. I kid ye not, it was carved of stone and was as large as this building. Its shoulders were slumped lower than ye or I, its legs were malformed with the calf of one twice as large as the other, its arms were proportionally fine but still looked sinister, and its face, oh its face, I cannot describe the deformity. Oh all ye must come to witness it for yerselves."

None were moved substantially. Some other drunk patrons shouted cat calls at the sailors, calling him a loony and a psycho. Nonetheless, the sailor stuck by his word and walked back toward his barstool. He sat himself down as dignified as one could after that embarrassment. His mates consoled him, and they all bought another round of drinks. Many forgot this event, including the sailors themselves. However, a man in the audience was intrigued by this story. He got up, walked up the stairs, and opened his door. He was not staying long originally, but this changed his mind.