Marcus P. Kellum’s Personal Journal
March 23rd, 1978
there was a soft movement. not really a sound, but rather the feeling of a sound. a wave of discomfort sped towards me.
i hadn't’t realized it, but in my shock, i had upset the ink well. a pool, shiny and black, slowly formed above the cracks and etches of my desk. the page i had been hastily scrawling on was now ruined, but that was the least of my worries. whatever it was that had caused the silent explosion was moving towards me. i had a good idea who the creator of my discomfort was, but my mind could not grasp the implications. this toying had not been real when i had started it, and up until now, i had always played with the idea that such mumbo jumbo was as fake as a cigar store indian. with some small flourish, i swept out my pocket handkerchief and began to sop at the running ink. rivulets of it had reached the ends of my table and were now dripping on the floor.
silently, i wondered to myself why i was wasting time on such a trivial chore as cleaning up the mess. i let the handkerchief fall to the floor, a bluish-black wad. a whoosh of air entered the room. things were closer now, their soft footsteps, so full of alien hatred, had caused the flame on my desk candle to flicker. with a trembling hand, i groped towards the bottom right desk drawer and the pistol that rested there. this is silly, i thought to myself again. if i were to believe the ancient texts this small firearm would be of no avail. there was no weapon that the earth now possessed that would save me from my foes. still, the weight of the pistol felt good in my hand. someplace in the instinct of man, far back in the mists of time, a weight in the hand must have been a comfort. a rock to throw, so ingrained in our psyche, had evolved into a comfort of all things heavy in times of need. i gripped the pistol tighter as i felt a presence in the hallway that led to my rooms.
someplace in the house, there was an electrical charge of great power. i could feel it in the hairs on my arms and taste the ozone on my tongue. a brief flicker of that power shone forth as a sickly greenish light that i could see from the crack under my door. soft hissing voices could be heard in the hall, but i could not tell you what sort of creature could articulate a tone like the one i was hearing. amid the words being spoken, i caught the unmistakable sound of gurgling, as if the owner of such a voice were under hundreds of feet of water.
the floorboards nearest to my door began to bend downward. it seemed a great weight had been placed on them just outside my door. i clutched the pistol tighter and as silently as i could, i eased my chair back away from my desk. “s’hy em Hasture.” came a voice, and the door trembled as if it were being pushed inwards. the words seemed to be demanding something - telling the door to open. only the small glyph i had carved into the wood of the door had kept the door shut. i felt a prickle as sweat broke out on my forehead. stupidly, i reached for my handkerchief, only to remember that it was wadded and ruined on the floor.
“L’lugutha vea urul!” came the voice again. this time the door didn't tremble, but rather, it faded out of existence as if it had never been there.
the hinges poked out from the doorway just exactly as they had been when the door was there. now that the door was gone, a wave of fetid air rushed into the room. i felt my stomach drop in my abdomen.
there was nothing in the doorway. i crept around the edge of my desk, moving to a spot in the room where i could get a better shot at whatever would be coming in. i peered at the wall of the hallway across from my rooms and waited to see a shadow or to hear something that might reveal my foe, but no noise came. the otherworldly voice was silent. i drew several breaths as i tried to understand what had happened. i reached out with my mind and could not find any trace of the being that had so recently been at the threshold of my study. whatever it had been, it was gone. i moved back to my desk with the purpose of filling a glass with the brandy when another soft explosion occurred. this time, my room was the epicenter of this explosion. it felt as if the world had suddenly dropped from under me. then the sickly light was back. a ball of energy moved towards me. it floated up, drifting across my desk and aimed itself at my chest, hovering. thin tendrils of black energy snaked out from the ball and licked at the papers and tomes on the top of my desk. tiny arms shot flames into my files, months worth of investigative work now destroyed in an instant. as quickly as the papers disappeared, the ball was on the move again. it drifted up to me and hovered again at eye level, a mere foot from my face. again, a terrible finger of black fire shot out of the ball and stopped short of my face by the width of a hair. the ball stopped hovering and stood perfectly still in the air, then the voice came again.
“urgoth uhm liekke...R’lyeh fom kkurduth.” it uttered and the lick of destroying flame snaked back inside the ball. i collapsed in utter horror, the warning had been given. the accursed ball slowly faded and i scrabbled forward trying to salvage some of my papers and texts. to my alarm, not one page or book was left. only a small swatch of ancient papyrus had survived the fiery blasts. i picked it up and saw that text could still be read from the ruined scroll. i gasped as i read what the piece said:
June 20th, 1978
following the loss of my notes, i resolved to start my studies fresh and from a different angle. in the past, i had been content to be an invisible observer. it seemed that my observations had drawn attention, and it was with consideration that i made my conclusion. i would have to take a more active role in this.
i would have to protect myself with powerful counter-spells and arm myself with offensive weapons that would make a man shudder.
my meager savings allowed me to book a flight to turkey. there, i hoped to find my way into the toros mountains and the ancient hidden cave that was said to be nestled there.
at first, my journey led me upwards into the hills with great ease. owing to my health and general motivation, i was able to reach the goal of my trek in a acceptable amount of time. my goal, mt. kizlarsivrisi was a subject of great intrigue. not only was it the greatest peak in the olympus chain - a fact that was not lost on me - it seemed to be a dark mammoth that stood like an angry giant amid the beautiful valleys and dales of that region.
many of the locals in the nearby town where i made my camp told me of ghastly stories that truly chilled me. stories of kidnappings in the night, strange lights, and a local sect of men and women who hid in the hills that surrounded the region.
despite the fact that i was shaken by these tales, i strengthened my resolve for the trip ahead. on the morning of the last day, i set out with a backpack filled with the normal gear i would need. this included multiple recording devices as well. i knew that i would need to document as much as i could over the days ahead, so i supplied myself with two cameras, a tape recorder, and this notebook. no, it wasn't just clothes that i carried in that backpack. i had made a point to gird myself with as many tools as i could to make my job easier. one such tool was the antique pistol i purchased in a ankara back alley. i stress the word antique for the pistol was possibly from the world war one era. i cleaned it as best i could, but i had an ominous feeling that it had not been fired in at least fifty years.
finally, i set out. the morning was bright and only thin wisps of clouds dotted the sky. by mid-afternoon, i had reached a sandy plateau just south of the summit of the great mountain. here it was that i began to make my search for the lost cavern. going mostly on memory, i was able to find a small, rocky outcropping that was covered in sporadic brush. i got close to the stone wall and investigated with fingers and eyes. i was looking for a symbol, a letter, anything that would point out the whereabouts of the cave in question.
by nightfall, i had encircled the spur of rock twice and my search had resulted in nothing. i drew a heavy sigh and returned to my camp, there i set about making a fire and putting together my tiny tent. after a frugal meal, i arranged my sleeping covers and settled down. surely the light of the morning would aid my search. hours after i had drifted off, i was awoken by fitful dreams. in these dreams, i was walking in the night. i was walking on the same plateau, however it felt as if i were in another time, perhaps thousands of years ago. the night air was hot, and the many stars were my only light source. i walked on and on until suddenly i burst through a tangle of blasted trees and bushes into a clearing. the clearing was nondescript. the normal sandy stones and weather beaten rock was all around me, but a strange site filled my eyes as they were drawn to the center of the clearing. at the center was a spire of black. a column that stood out against the native rock like a splinter thrust into the thumb of a giant. it was about sixty feet tall and made of what appeared to be black glass.
slowly i approached the spire and reached my hand out to touch it's smooth surface. the second my hand came into contact with the column, a jolt of dread washed through me. i was overwhelmed by a feeling of loathsome exhaustion. the stone felt as if it were drawing the very life force from my flesh. a loud clap of thunder rolled across the sky and i was jolted awake. as i struggled with my sleeping wraps, i was alarmed to note that a storm had moved into my region. tall dark clouds gathered together and blotted out the winking stars. the clouds seem to be gathering to me - or at least to some defined point near me, for they rolled forward at a great rate until they neared my area where they slowed to a crawl.
i gathered myself up out of my tent and glanced around my camp. the air was dry and a sickly wind swept over the plateau despite the threat of rain due to the clouds overhead. as i looked to the east, i became aware of some sort of action going on behind the spur of rock that i had been searching. i crept towards the commotion as silently as i could, cursing my boots as they crunched over the blasted ground. as i neared the stone, i concluded that the noises i had heard were mechanical in nature.
imagine large iron arms sliding over a plate of steel. it sounded as if the hinges of hell itself were groaning back and open. i peered around a wall of stone in the general direction of the noise and my eyes were greeted with the unwholesome site of a wide yawning opening in the area i had been searching only hours before.
never would i have guessed that this seemingly solid ground was a ruse that hid the massive entrance to god knows what. it looked as if the very ground itself had fallen away to reveal the hidden portal, but i knew that not to be true as a quick glance at the ledges of the hole revealed the source of the heavy metal noise i had heard. great sliding doors, fashioned to look exactly like the native rock, had been pulled back, exposing the great penning.
someplace, deep in that open passage, i heard the clamor of beings. suddenly, i became aware of my peril.
the camp!
quickly, i rushed back to the camp to disperse my belongings and hide them as best i could. who (or what) ever was behind the subterranean tumults surely would consider my encroachment an attack of some sort. i had to make it appear as if nobody had been there. having done so, i silently went back to the hidden portal. again, i glanced around the last rock wall and gazed at the area. the door was still open, a wide mouth of evil, speaking directly at the sky. around it, various humanoid types were busy setting up what appeared to be machinery of some sort. they all wore dark robes, but in flashes of moonlight i was able to discern some basic facial features. all of them appeared human, but there was an almost antagonistic leer to their features. something in their eyes and mouth was strange. it could have been described as frog-like, and i realized that i had seen these features before in some of the many denizens of Innsmouth, the town of my current household.
i could not describe the use of the the machines they were working with, if that is what the tall metallic things were, for i had never seen anything of their kind before. the metal appeared to be aluminum, or some such alloy that contained aluminum. the surfaces were a burnished dark color and they rose above the plateau like flag poles with ridiculously large bases. i was led to believe that the pieces were heavy by the way the beings were struggling with them.
they struggled, but it also could be seen that they handled their machines with the greatest of reverence. after an hour of watching their toil, i discovered that they were placing these flag poles in a rough circle that girded their doorway in the earth. with the machines in place, the humanoids slunk away, perhaps finding a place of cover for the fireworks that surely would soon take place. i pressed forward, seeking a better angle to watch, but my foot caught upon a loose snag of stone. i lurched forward and fell to the ground, scraping the palms of my hands, but that was not my worry.
the loose rock about me began to slide down towards the gaping maw of the door. pebbles and small stones cascaded down, stirring up a clamor that surely would give away my position. i rolled to my left and sought to hide myself behind a windswept bush. i had hidden myself just in time, as a number of the workers below glanced up in my general direction. their eyes had the dull gleam of red in the darkness of the night.
such racket must have been common, they only gazed for brief seconds, and then went back to their work. a rolling boom echoed out of the portal. the very rocks i rested on seemed to reverberate with the deafening sound. the humanoids were all out of site now, having reached places of cover. the gathering clouds overhead had darkened, and sky seemed to swirl inward on the hole in the ground. a hum began to build up and scream forth from the flag poles that were arranged around the doorway until the sound went up above my range of hearing.
a dull glow began to reach up from the portal in the ground and each flagpole was enveloped in the baneful light. the darkness of the clouds stood out in stark contrast to the light, and the two seemed to wrestle for a moment until finally, the darkness was sucked down towards the hole. i had to rub my eyes at the huge dust storm that was now swirling around me. the clouds themselves seemed to be yanked from the sky and down into the hole. light flashed, so bright i had to shut my eyes, and then suddenly everything stopped. the eerie light slowly retreated back away from the machines and faded into the doorway. the sky became normal again, and the whine sank back down to a hum, and then finally disappeared. i scrabbled to my feet and moved as fast as i could towards the opening. as i closed on the door, i had to check my pace. the workers had all but disappeared inside the cavern, but i had a strange feeling that i was being watched as i drew near. i entered the darkness of the open mouth. immediately, i was buffeted by a sharp coldness that emanated from the darkness below. ahead of me, dim light could be seen.
i watched closely as the humanoids walked further down the tunnel towards i knew not what. the floors were smooth, but not worn smooth. they felt as though they had been fashioned by machines. the walls did not look like any normal cavern's walls that i had ever seen. they looked more like the calm cinder block walls of a hospital or prison. scattered here and there on those walls were runes and glyphs of the like i had never seen before.
suddenly, the tunnel stopped and opened up on a large, five sided room. tunnels branched off from the room at each of the pentagram's angle. on the wall was a continual mosaic that depicted horrific forms emerging from some long forgotten ocean. the beings held what appeared to be spears with which they herded small man-like forms. some had tentacles, some had crab-like claws, but no matter what they used for grasping, every one of them seemed to be grasping a weapon and using it on the damned souls that they subjugated.
my breathing was loud in the room, and i suddenly realized that i needed to be out. some inner instinct told me to flee, to run as fast and as far as i could from this place. i backed slowly up the tunneled hallway i had come and was hit with a wave of feeling that reminded me not so much as dread but more of drowning. i clutched at my chest as i stumbled towards the portal and escape. i drew nearer to the only exit i had seen and a dull groan moved through the earth. the doors! the doors were closing again.
whatever work the fiends below had started was now accomplished. they were sealing off the outside world and if i did not hasten my steps, i would be sealed in as well. in the gloom ahead, i could see the mighty doors grinding towards a closed position. i re-doubled my pace and made it to the warmer, breathable air of the outside world. i made my way back to the place were i had set up my camp, gathered my tools and tent.
a plan was already growing in my mind. this gate had to be shut. this portal through which the denizens of the deep could gain access to my world must be closed.
July 1, 1978
after more than a week of planning and gathering of material, i think i have everything ready to effect my plan.
in a nearby village, i was able to purchase a moderate supply of fertilizer and diesel fuel. i believe that the two thousand pounds of mixture i have purchased will contain enough ammonium nitrate to do the deed. now i must hire servants to transport the materials to my destination.
July 8, 1978
July 7, 1978
three days of hauling have brought my mixture to the spot of my previous camp. we might have reached my destination sooner if it had not been for the superstitions of some of the hired labor. many had to be sent back during the journey and a few more were so frightened by the time that we reached the plateau that even waving various bills under their noses could not convince them to move any further.
nevertheless, i reached the outcropping with little or no trouble and sent them all away. i could finish by myself. after a day's labor (no small labor, i might add), i was able to arrange barrels of my explosive around the area of the cavern doors. i set up the detonator and was preparing for the blast just as night was falling - hoping to shroud my escape in the gloom of the evening.
as i twisted the last wires to my electrical charge, i heard a sound that shocked me to the very core of my bones.
"S'yaleth Gund!" said the voice and i froze.
it was the same slithering language as i had heard in my rooms so many months ago. i nervously finished my work on the detonator and did not turn around. whatever happened, i knew that it was my duty, my destiny to seal this door forever.
a jab in my back brought me out of my frozen state. for a brief second, i tasted and felt that familiar ozone flavor all around myself. i leapt to the side, grasping the detonator at the same time. i was too close, but the chance had to be taken. i had been discovered.
a boom rolled through the ground and i realized that an alarm had been sounded. i rolled in the dirt, heard that voice again, but all was lost as a gave the detonator three quick compressions and the dusk erupted in a ball of fire.
i never saw who it was who had spoken to me and jabbed at me with that horrific spear.
as the explosion went up, the rock i was lying on tilted forty-five degrees and my camp was pitched downward as the major part of the plateau sank into an ever widening hole. the great doors collapsed in on themselves and were buried under many tons of sandy rock. everything was sliding towards the great fire that was burning in the center. only a stray tree root saved me as i slid.
i hauled myself up and away from the wreck - only just in time as the entire shelf of rock disappeared in the conflagration. i managed to drag myself away from the destruction and find a spot of relative safety. i stood looked back as the whole area took on a new shape. the fires had all sunk beneath the plateau of rock, their smoke issuing from various newly formed cracks.
as i was sure my work was done, i turned to make my way back to civilization. i wiped my brow and turned back to the arduous journey ahead of me. i neared the cliffs that would lead me back to the town and began to climb down.
suddenly, a rocking boom rolled through the ground. it felt as if i were witnessing an earthquake. i scrabbled back up the path that i had come down, only to see the fleeting remnants of a gargantuan hand reaching out of the ground at the former site of the doorway. the hand was scaly and black. its size could have been compared to the size of a large city bus. it strained upward for an instant and then was pulled under the earth's crust as if it belonged to a drowning man.
September 15, 1983
The move to the new facility has been a rather boring and tedious business. However happy I may be due to the new funding, equipment, and general caliber of the people I will be working with, I shall always feel a tinge of regret at not being in the old house on Arkham lane. This new place seems far more clinical, far more sterile. The staff is forced to wear company uniforms and they use plastic security badges to move from room to room in this airtight enclosure. It is a far different from the pipe tobacco smoke and the tweed of my old campus residence! I miss my old books and scrolls; they have been transcribed to microfiche and are in the process of being entered into a database to be accessed by scholars with a like mind as my own.
Since I have moved here, I have met several of these like-minded men and women. These men and women, my colleagues, have their own stories to tell…or they are too frightened to tell them. Some men, in an attempt to conceal their abject fears, are all bluster and boasting. They will enter my rooms and want to discuss what I have done and seen in the past. They will want to compare “fishing stories” as I have begun to call them. Whoever has the largest fish must be the alpha-male… Other men and women here, they are blank. They do not talk about what they know. They conceal the hopeless and utterly horrible visions and they do not speak of them. These are the people I want to unlock. These are the individuals who have seen what I have seen. That cold plateau in Turkey, that grasping and dying hand…if these people have seen half of what I know is possible, it is imperative that we exchange information. It is of utmost importance that we share these tales because the world outside this clinic does not know what is happening. Even if they did, they would not believe us.
September 17, 1983
Now that we have settled in, I am beginning to actually meet my peers. It is not going as well as I had first hoped. Several of these scholars, doctors, and agents I have met in the past, either through my journeys or involved in some academia. It is because of this past that most shy away from me and I have been labeled a pariah by more established and accepted learning circles. My unorthodox practices and non-linear studies have won me few allies in what is laughingly called “Kellum’s personal crusade” by people who scoff at my past. However, over the years I have made few lasting friends. Many are still alive to share in my beliefs, my labors, and my secrets.
I was pleased to find that doctor Avinashi Proctor, the noted parapsychologist, world famous mountaineer, and friend was on the list of technicians who had been invited by the government to study here at the facility. In years past, we had gone on several expeditions; the last a disastrous journey and study of pre-Olmec stone carvings found in a central American cave. Oh, how that study was denigrated and maligned by the archeological community! Avi and I had been blacklisted from government funding for several years after the tragic events that unfolded in that Panamanian town. I was nervous to meet with her after all these years, I feared that maybe she still held a grudge.
I rapped on the wooden panel of her door and she spoke to me without even looking up from a stack of papers she was reading.
“Quite a place they have given us here,” she said. “All this funding…it seems as if it has come from out of nowhere.”
I gave a soft chuckle and entered her room. Yes, the funding had at first seemed to appear out of thin air, but I had asked questions. People who controlled vast resources had read our theories and the theories of our colleagues. I assured her that even though it seemed as if we were being controlled by shadowy puppet masters, we were indeed funded by everyday normal citizens.
“Ah yes,” she replied, her almond shaped eyes looking at me for the first time in six long years, “but who controls them?”
With that, our friendship seemed to rekindle. We began talking of our exploits in the years we had been apart, sharing tales that were both strange and wonderful. I felt as if I was acting like a schoolboy, I was nervous and I talked too fast. My excitement at seeing this long lost friend had me edgy and jumpy. She seemed as cool and aloof as ever. I had forgotten how beautiful she was, despite her physical, emotional, and psychic scars.
As we brought each other up to speed on our past exploits, she was stern and stoic, which was usual for her, but as the time ticked by; her voice grew deeper and more grave. I could not stand this anymore; I knew she was hiding something. Finally, I demanded to know what was wrong.
“I am not quite sure what you mean…” her voice trailed off as she toyed. Finally, she understood that I knew she was concealing something. “I can’t kid you Mark, I never could.”
“What is it? Blast it! don’t beat around the bush here!” I was exasperated and intrigued.
She took a slow breath, her shoulders straightened and broadened showing just how fit she was under her academic disguise. “Recently, and I am talking of within the last few days, there have been some very interesting sightings right here in town.”
“Sightings?” I asked sheepishly. “What do you mean? Are we speaking of The Old Ones? Some new opponent?”
“Mark, please keep it down,” she looked out the doorway of her office to see if anyone was around. “Have you ever wondered why they put this clinic…this whole facility here in Chicago? Why they have gathered such an odd group of people here in the name of research?”
“The official paperwork said to promote the collection and sharing of data that lies outside of normal scientific method…”
“Don’t hand me the company line!” Avi said with a grin. “We’re here because They are here…”
September 28, 1983
I have dived into my work here at the facility with great vigor. The discussion with Avi has renewed my resolve and the discussions that were to follow only bolstered my feelings. This government agency was placed here to not only discover paranormal phenomena, but to also track it and if possible, attempt to confront it. To say the word confront is a rather placid way of putting it. Some might say “attack.”
This does not bother me in the slightest. In my past, I have done my fair share of confrontation. The powers that are locked within this world, the ones we are hunting, do not care for human beings even if they recognize them as anything more than a cockroach. There is no parley with these entities, only Armageddon or survival.
At my desk, I have been looking over several reports that have been coming in from the south side of Chicago. The decline and crime of places like Englewood have not helped in our studies. They have only hidden what may really be going on there. Avi has suggested an urban expedition over the course of several nights. After a week of planning and gathering supplies, I think we shall be able to do just that.
October 7, 1983 7:45 PM
The bus ride was a revelation. I have always relied public transportation when living in large towns, but I have never journeyed in such a decrepit and daunting neighborhood. The ride I had taken was easily as forbidding as any voyage into some forgotten crypt or some bleak mountain pass. Everything on the bus, though brightly lit, seemed off, as if the whole contraption was vibrating on some other plane of existence. My worried expression alarmed Avi.
“What is it Mark…do you see something?”
I held back, I did not want her to know that I was alarmed; I did not want my own foolishness to spook her. I claimed that I might be coming down with a fever.
“There is Aspirin in one of the suitcases; I’ll get you some when we reach the hotel.”
The bus we traveled in was owned by the city, and what a city it was that flashed by in the dusky Chicago light. Old buildings, boarded up businesses and abandoned stockyards crept passed us as we journeyed forward. Finally, around 7 p.m. we reached the beaten and broken hotel. The streets were deserted, but the feeling they gave off was not just a feeling of vacancy…they felt as if they were not there. As I hefted the bags off the luggage rack and made my way to the bus’s pneumatic doorway, I caught something out of the corner of my eye. Something black. Something not quite there.
“Wha-wait, Avi!” I called after her. “What is it? need some help?” She asked, but then she saw the look on my face. Her expression turned to one of severe resolve. “Let’s get inside, out of the wide open. We need to set up.” She quickly crossed the sidewalk and entered the hotel as I puffed along behind her.
We reached the check in counter and an old black man met us with a sly smirk. He seemed to know something about us and was not willing to share his knowledge. I paid very close attention to him. Something was just not quite right. Finally, after we had pre-paid for the week and we were signed in to the register, he broke out into a wide grin and handed us our keys. It dawned on me that the man was blind. I felt ashamed that I had not noticed such a handicap and the old man realized that I was caught in an awkward moment.
“Vietnam.” He said, answering my question before I had even asked it. “Grenades don’t care which side you is on, they just go off.” He said with a flourish. He then walked around the counter and gestured towards an old set of elevator doors. “Those is broken, you can use them to come down, but I wouldn’t try goin up. F’some reason the gears is locked up. Been that way for years.” He added a small chuckle.
Leaving him behind, we hauled our bags and cases up to the second floor. We had chosen a higher level than the ground floor for many reasons. First, they allowed us to see above the fence across the street into the abandoned stockyard that was located directly across from us. Secondly, we had decided on a second story room in this hotel because it would give us a reasonable amount of anonymity should we encounter people who were curious. Finally, it would be harder for anything to get into the room…it never occurred to us that it would be equally as difficult to get out.
Avi was unpacking equipment as I settled on one of the two twin beds. She handled her tools with an air of authority, checking to see if each individual apparatus was functional and clean. Finally, she took a rather large pistol out of her pack and began checking it for God knows what. She finally noticed my expression of wonder and shock.
“Hey,” she said with a clever grin, “it’s still Chicago Mark…the south side of Chicago…” With that, she slammed the magazine home in the butt of the pistol and then nestled it in the back of her slacks below her jacket. “C’mon, it’s time for some recon.”