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.

Chapter One --Section One

The street lights decorated the side of the road with a lackluster brilliance. Automobiles road by, hitting the various potholes scattered about the asphalt. The wheels hit these potholes with a certain delicate ferocity that is absolutely distinct to an automobile. Pedestrians walked down the sides of the street with a gloomy step. Their expressions could not be made out, however, their moods were apparently in their legs. The depressed scuffled down the concrete slowly, without care. Those in haste walked underneath the street lights in an almost blur. They, like the depressed, expressed no care for the street, however unlike those downtrodden, the people in haste would shift their heads swiftly from side to side, trying to ignore what is in front of them. Those whom had no purpose, the beggars, walked jauntily against the asphalt. Their lives were a mess, what good is it to worry?

Men of the law swung their clubs as pictured in film. Their medium blue uniforms did not stand out particularly well against the foreboding darkness that covered the street. They walked about nonchalantly as they waited for the night-shift to end. One could tell that these particular policemen wanted nothing extraordinary to happen, for it was Christmas Eve, and they would rather go home unscathed. At the north end of the street was a port, the Ashibald Wharf as it was known. Fishermen were calling in the night and were packing their rods and bait in their individual boxes. Sailors docked their ships of every shape and size in the marina. They too were coming in to call it quits for the evening. Some were disappointed of their catches of the day, others were quite ecstatic and could not wait to go home to their loved ones to tell of the wonderful stories of the day. Lamps furnished the ends of the wharf as well. The illuminated docks constructed a faintly disturbing aura about the area. A smooth fog permeated the wharf, also adding to its ominous demeanor.

On this particular chilly Christmas Eve, arrived a group of sailors in port. That was nothing out of the ordinary. However, following their docking, the sailors ran off without unloading any cargo. The ship looked as if it had hit an iceberg, but that is unusual, because the ship had only gone out only four miles out sea and there were never any icebergs in that part of the ocean. The sailors ran as if they had seen something terrible, something awesome.