Michael Shorde's The Lost Book - Part Four

The spider came close to the counter and stopped. At this point I could not see it, yet I knew it was right below me but I was too afraid to bend over for a look. It abruptly leaped onto the counter top, and my heart leaped in my chest. This abhorrence was even more sickening close up. Those segmented legs were spread out perhaps two feet across, and I saw a cluster of eyes on the front of that slender body. They were tiny and black, reflecting the light, unblinking in its incessant stare.

For a moment, I was at a loss as to what to do.

I had no time to think further; the thing reared up, raising its despicable legs in a commotion of ungodly flesh, revealing the slender underbody. It abruptly split open vertically, and a thin maw opened, displaying tiny jagged teeth that normally would not have seemed too threatening, but considering the source it changed the circumstances.

I was almost shivering with fear, could not take flight, and by reflexes took control of this monstrous apparition. My hand holding the knife thrust forward, straight into the mouth of this insidious creation. The blade entered straight into its mouth, and a thick, black fluid flowed out of either side. As sickening as it was, I drew back the knife and struck again and again.

I stood holding the knife above the dead creature, my chest heaving, and sweat covering my brow. The black fluid that was its blood smeared the counter top. I could smell its dreadful odor as I reached for a rag under the counter and wiped the blade clean. I would leave the other mess for the time being. I ran back inside the house, wanting to know more, wanting more from the book. It was lying on my chair – funny, because I had left it on the end table. I sat to learn more, to learn how to save David.

I looked at the drawing he had made of the tunnel. It was normal, yet grotesque in its fashion. Below it was another paragraph from David:

By now you have seen the spiders – don’t ask me how I know, I just do. Now your mind is open it is time for you to enter the other dimension where I await you. Beware of the creatures that walk its halls. Arm yourself with the book! It will drive the small ones away, for sure, but it will take all your strength to push Cthulhu back into his world.

My friend, as I mentioned, I have discovered another dimension, another world. It is a world that The Great Old Ones do not want exposed to us, a world which we do not want to see, either. It is a malignant place, full of things that were here before us, before them, and as it did to me, I fear it may be do unto you.

Walk outside your house, and think of the spiders, think of me, and the tunnel will appear. As you walk along, ignore the small creatures that threaten you – they are harmless. Follow the tunnel sharply! Do not sway from its path! If you do, you will find the other place, and perhaps no way home. If you should decline this invitation, I will most surely understand. Remember, the book is your power…

I reasoned about this; I did not ask to be involved, and yet he knew I would be involved somehow.  David and I have such a close connection; this can be the only answer. He knew I would not abandon him. But just how did he get this volume printed? And how did he know it would end up in my hands?

Fear crept up my spine as a lithesome insect would, sending shivers along my limbs. I poured another brandy and tasted the sour tang of the amber fluid. I stared at the French door to the patio. I would go. I stood and straightened my coat, took a deep breath, and ventured outside.

There stood the greenhouse – the lights were still lit. I walked beyond the greenhouse into a darker part of the back and stood staring into the blackness. My thoughts turned to David, to the spiders, to his ordeal. I concentrated on all those swirling thoughts, and I saw a dim glow in front of me. Here was the cavern, baring itself finally to me. It was the mouth of Hell.

Michael Shorde's The Lost Book - Part Three

I turned the pages and stared blankly at the images David had drawn. Like an artist undiscovered, he had revealed things I could not comprehend. The spiders. Or were they really spiders? Creatures not unlike spiders, yet possessing what seemed like an endless array of segmented legs. I could see no body, yet a stroke of a pencil. Horrid things they were, and I began to wonder myself if they truly existed.

As if I thought these creatures were bizarre enough, I turned a page and witnessed a thing of which no man should see. It had a long tubular-shaped body, with thick short legs and heavy feet of nine toes. It’s face was obscured by tentacles that reached out from a large circular maw lined with jagged teeth. From the tentacles grew more, smaller tentacles, and from those, more. If its design had been crude, I could have gazed upon it with more ease, but its perfection disturbed me to no end.

Below this particular drawing was a short paragraph by David:

Image this one hundred times this size, my friend. It is Cthulhu, king of the Great Old Ones. It is what holds me prisoner in its dimension. The book you hold now is my only salvation. It cannot destroy the creatures of this realm, but will push them back, as God pushed the Devil into the pit. It is then you can save me. Yet, I have more to show you. Soon, you will follow the same path as I – Godspeed.

I pondered over this for quite some time, growing weary all the while. Finally, I turned a page to find a drawing of what seemed to be the entrance to a cave of some sort. As I gazed at the drawing, the walls of the caved seemed to move with life, undulating and embracing upon something invisible. I closed my eyes and drifted off…

I awoke a short time later, the book still unfurled on my lap. I closed it and yawned, listening to the breeze blowing through the open French doors. The flames in the fireplace had grown weak, and fluttered as if about to die altogether. I set the book on the end table, and rose to add more wood to the fire. Rather funny, though, I didn’t recall leaving the doors open. The wind, of course it must have been the wind.

I made to close the glass doors, but hesitated. The breeze was refreshing, and I stepped out onto the patio to survey the grounds along the back of the house. Oddly enough, the greenhouse was lit from the overhead fluorescents, and I went to investigate. I opened the door and glanced inside at all the plants and flora, but the building was otherwise empty. After one more look around, I turned off the lights and decided to retire for the evening. When I returned to the study, I saw David’s book lying on my chair, open to the page with the horrid drawings of the spiders. I shuddered, for I knew I had not left it there.

From behind came light. I turned and saw that the greenhouse was lighted as before – I knew then that David had truly planned on leading me through the strange events he had before experienced. For the first time I was truly frightened. Was I to become victim to the heinous events bestowed upon my friend? Surely, he would not let harm come to me, except to lead me to his astral prison.

I ran into the kitchen and pulled a large steak knife from the wooden cutlery holder on the counter. I made my outside and immediately noticed something odd attached to the glass wall on the inside of the greenhouse. This was no plant, for it scuttled up and down the glass with amazing speed.

A spider!

This most certainly proved David’s sanity. Yet, I felt as if something was trying to sneak into my mind and steal my sanity away. Still clear of mind, I opened the greenhouse door, and warmth and beautiful scents cascaded over me. I started down an aisle, surveying the plants for any sign of the spider-like creature for it was no longer attached to the glass. My mind ran wild. It was waiting for me, waiting to kill me. I was experiencing the same fear David must have felt when he first encountered the freakish things. I held the knife before me and slowly moved toward the end of the aisle. Some of the larger plants brushed against me with large, flat leaves or the thin leaves of the ferns.

I heard a pattering on the floor, and saw a flurry of thin legs as the thing scampered across the aisle at the end. It sickened me to see it, but regardless I picked up my pace. I stopped just short of the end and peeked around the corner. There were three more aisles to contend with if the creature wanted to play a game of cat and mouse all night.

I crept over to the next aisle and moved back toward the front of the greenhouse, where a large counter (I had built this myself, and I was quite proud of it considering I know nothing of woodworking) stood before several tall shelves lined with pots of various sizes and colors. Stacked on the floor were bags of soil and fertilizer.

I reached the front and stood behind the counter as if I was a clerk ready to make a sale. I leaned on my hands and took several deep breaths.

The book you hold now is my only salvation…

I should have brought the book with me to perhaps witness its power over these multi-dimensional beings. As if that very thought had triggered a reaction, the spider emerged from some foliage in the aisle directly in front of me. As it moved toward me, I was almost mesmerized by all those damned legs. My mind could not fathom such a thing, and yet, here it was; I could hear the legs scraping through dust on the floor as it grew near.

Michael Shorde's The Lost Book - Part Two

As I pondered over this, I again grew angry. The doctor at the asylum should have known all this, and that David had shared his notes with the others. They obviously had had experiences of their own, but David seemed to be the key to it all.

Before I had returned to England, I decided to pay a visit to Dr. Lansing. I finally found him – in the oldest cemetery in town, Oak Hills. He had become a permanent resident there, among all the rest, of which there were many. David had taken me there once; he had always been fascinated with cemeteries.

But with the death of Dr. Lansing, the trail ended, and I was left with no other choice but to return to England. I had never visited the other students, as I felt that there had been no good reason to. I only wanted to find my friend.

So many questions…

I opened the book and started to read, and almost immediately some of my questions were answered; it came from something David had written after the first few pages, which were void of any information regarding a publisher, or anything else, for that matter. The pages were simply blank. Yet, knowing David like I had, I was not surprised.

Regardless, I abruptly came upon a page on which was short testimony from David:

This all came about as a result of the study on Lovecraft that ten of us were involved in, which I now know was not a study at all, but an experiment conducted by Dr. Stephen Lansing. His experiment worked, but with disastrous results.

My mistake was in sharing my personal notes with the others in the group. Three of us ended up committed, and the other seven…well, I don’t know what happened to those poor souls. In any case, I entered the realm of Cthulhu, and was nearly driven mad.

However, there was something that Dr. Lansing had not counted on, and that was the existence of yet another dimension besides that of the Great Old Ones. It seems that I was the one connection he had been looking for – I not only became a part of Cthulhu’s world, but I discovered another, different dimension. It is not one from far away in the universe, and it is not one next to us; it is a part of us. And no one ever knew.

We share the same space, each oblivious of the other’s existence, living our lives surrounded by those unseen. It is not the dimension of Cthulhu, but it seemed to have been the trigger to open the doorway in time and space, and allow me to witness the atrocities.

As we go through our daily lives, we do everything here, and among them. At first, we saw the face of the dreaded Cthulhu, and he attempted to drive us mad, for he knows that the human mind is not ready for such things. And for the others, it ended there. I was too curious, too open minded, and this angered that disgusting beast for I suddenly knew of another world. Perhaps they are a threat to the Great Old Ones, but they are nonetheless here, and I do not know my fate.

This is what this single volume is about – the unseen creatures sharing our space. All the things I have learned and seen, and I know that soon I will be gone. Cthulhu will not accept it, nor will he let any other humans know of it. So, my friend, I have given to you all I know – by now you know that this was meant for your eyes. Only you can help me escape the world in which I am trapped.

But beware, for the unseen creatures are everywhere, and they are aware of us.

To find me, Michael, you will have to find the secret openings to the underground world of Cthulhu and the Great Old Ones. Without doing that, I would never have discovered the other dimension of what I call The Creatures Unseen.

I had thought that Cthulhu’s world would drive a man insane, but this other dimension, which I postulate to be one of many was one that would definitely drive a man insane, was not meant for that purpose. They are creatures that the human mind is not ready to see. Perhaps it was my luck to see part of the world of the Great Old Ones that accustomed my eyes to the horrors that lie ahead.

I still maintain my sanity, but this is unusual for them, and they will not release me. My friend, if you do not choose to follow this path, I lay no blame upon you, for it is frightening at best. If you should choose to explore, bring weapons – it will be your only defense against some of the horrid things that lie below our world. Arm yourself well, for an army of one you shall be. Good luck, Michael.

David Rhodes

I was intrigued and frightened at the same time, considering what had happened to my dear friend. As I began to read, I realized it was a guide fashioned after what he had done in the beginning of Dr. Lansing’s study. It was obvious that David was much more adept with the subject, his mind open wider. I knew then that while the studies had affected all the students, three had entered other realms, especially David. His curious mind and willingness to risk led him among worlds beyond human imagination.

I oftentimes wonder if he had truly gone insane, or had found a way to keep his sanity, even if it was by but a thread. David was not a young student as were the rest – he was a writer of horrific things, which is one reason we bonded so well, for I, too, write of horrors and nightmares to jostle the imagination and even lead to dreadful dreams during which the dreamer would awake drenched in sweat, breathing heavily. But David always wanted to go one step further.

When he first heard of the study, he immediately went to Dr. Lansing, who promptly turned him down. David, in his usual fashion, pushed on; he explained that he had already studied Lovecraft, the Cthulhu Mythos, and offered Lansing several essays he had written on the subject. I recall David telling me how Lansing had looked up at him in silence for a moment, and said, “Give me your number. We shall, see Mr. Rhodes.” He told me later he knew he would be accepted into the study. And the next day he was.

At first, it seemed simple enough. Ten students, number nine not actually a student, but an explorer. I was not aware of this at first, but when David began to…change…I became worried. I voiced my doubts to him, but he only said he was intrigued with the whole concept of other dimensions, other universes – he wanted to know more.

I began to wonder: was I the teacher, as David would laugh and call me his muse, or was David the teacher, attempting to slowly make me understand the truth as he understood it.

I sat in silence, almost fearful of proceeding further with the book. Nonetheless, it drew me in, and I began to realize the he had, indeed, discovered something that not even the best imaginations could fathom.

I stared at the fire and sipped my brandy. And read:

They deemed me insane. I almost believed it myself had it not been for the simple trust I had in my mind. I was not insane. I was gifted. Or perhaps gifted is not the right term. Open. That is a better term. I was open to realities that others shunned. I discovered I was not alone, as number three and number six had also experienced that they could not comprehend. In the end, they accepted that they were insane. I would not accept that in myself, for I had been shown the truth of reality. I was not insane.

See here now, Michael, the atrocities I witnessed, and do not turn away, but accept it as truth.

Michael Shorde's The Lost Book - Part one

Michael Shorde’s

The Lost Book

I found the book in an old store on the south side of town. It was a book no one would even consider looking at, for it had no interest for most; but that did not include me. I immediately picked it up and brushed the dust from it.

David Rhodes. The Creatures Unseen.

My old friend, David, who had disappeared long ago after writing several books, the last being this one. I often wondered what had happened to my best friend – we spent many nights together in front of the fire talking over all things imaginable and unimaginable. He had a way with words that could oftentimes frighten even me.

I took the book to my flat and gently laid it on the mantle.

Where was David?

I did not at first look at the book. I thought about David, and how he had claimed to have contact with Cthulhu, a thing created by Lovecraft. He told me he had seen things unworldly. I tried to help him, but they took him away to an asylum. This was from where he disappeared, leaving only the body of a nurse. David could not have done this deed, for I knew him well.

I cleaned the book as best I could, but age had taken its toll. The cover was black and sturdy enough, yet the pages were dry, fragile. I browsed through at first, and some of the illustrations confounded me. I did not know David was capable of the intricate patterns, very disturbing, indeed. Perhaps it was his last testament to what he had witnessed.

Perhaps it was meant to be in my hands all along. I wanted more than anything to discover the truth, and as I held it near the firelight, the gold lettering glimmered; I believed it was the key to find my lost friend.

After all that had happened, all he told me, I returned from the States to my cottage outside of London. I had no more reason to stay, and it seems he has followed me on his own sojourn. I tried to prepare myself to experience my own journey, to the place where David lies in wait.

I poured myself a brandy and lit a cigar, sitting near the fire, for it seemed to bring life to the book. I recalled the twisted tale the administrator of the asylum told me:

“When we first brought David in, he was delusional. He claimed he was seeing…monsters, giant spiders – things only he could see. He had been a student involved in a special study involving the writer, H.P. Lovecraft. I did a little research of my own about this ‘Lovecraft’. Apparently he wrote about creatures of all sorts, in particular, Cthulhu. He claimed he had not only seen this thing, but other things as well,” Dr. Lattimer told me. “He grew agitated. I allowed him some paper and pencils to write on, and that’s how he spent most of his time. I saw everything he wrote – it was the only condition I gave him for having the writing materials.”

Dr. Lattimer seemed sincere; he did not find anything funny about his patients, I realized. “Doctor, just what was David writing about?”

“The creatures he claimed to have seen. As I mentioned, I was to read everything he wrote, but he fooled me.”

“Fooled you?”

“Why yes, he had an entire stack of papers hidden under his mattress. The entire thing was a chronicle, the real truth about what he thought he had seen. The rest was disturbing, but I think he was merely trying to fool me, drawing my attention away from what he was really writing.”

“What happened to his hidden papers?” I asked.

Dr. Lattimer looked at me curiously. “And just what is your interest in all this, Mr. Shorde?”

“He was my best friend,” I said. “He told me everything. In fact, he was my only friend. I am not from the States, and David befriended me, as we were both writers.”

“I see,” Lattimer said, slowly nodding. “I don’t recall him ever mentioning you.”

“One thing David and I had in common was that we were both introverts. We never went anywhere unless it was absolutely necessary. And besides, I could not bear to see my friend locked away here because everyone thought he was crazy.”

“We don’t like to use that term, Mr. Shorde. David was…disturbed, obsessed. I never thought he had it in him to harm anyone, but the nurse…the most horrible sight I have ever seen. David had gone over the edge.”

“He didn’t do it,” I boldly stated, and Dr. Lattimer sat up straight.

“If he didn’t do it, who did?”

“I’m not sure – but I know it wasn’t David. Did he ever mention Dr. Stephen Lansing?”

“Yes and Dr. Lansing visited here quite often at first, But eventually seemed to lose interest in the students altogether,” Lattimer said, shrugging.

That last startled me. “Students?”

“Yes,” Lattimer said. “David wasn’t the only one here. Two more of Lansing’s students were here, and are still here. But David was always his main interest.”

I was quite taken aback. “If David and two others were here, what happened to the other seven?”

“The other seven?” Lattimer asked.

I don’t normally get upset to this point, but I stood and leaned over Lattimer’s desk. “The other seven, Doctor! There were ten students in the study. David was number nine – well, that’s he told me. Lansing referred to his students with a number.”

Lattimer also stood. “You have just answered a question I’ve been trying to figure out for a while now. The other two students referred to themselves as 3 and 6. Now, I finally know. Lansing never told me of this being a closed experiment.”

“What happened to the secret papers David had hidden under his mattress?” I was quite agitated by this time, nearly grinding my teeth in frustration.

“They disappeared, I’m afraid. And right about the time Dr. Lansing stopped visiting David. I thought about calling the police, but thought it would have been hopeless. I had my suspicions, but I knew that wouldn’t be enough. The papers were simply gone.”

Time Away

   After an extended leave of absense, it was not as different as I thought it would be to return home - as I walked up the stairs, it was as if I had merely taken a short jaunt to the market or perhaps taken a walk. Nonetheless, it was pleasing to again be in familiar surroundings.
   This was one time I wished I had a secretary, for I found there was more than a few things to catch up on after a month's absense. I buckled down, and one by one began opening mail (snail mail and e-mail alike), checking and returning messages on Facebook and telephone; and I was happy to see I had received a card from a good friend in Maine. It is nice to be home.
   I somehow did not find it odd that after sleeping until five or six in the morning while I was away I awoke my first morning back in my own bed at two a.m. Old habits die hard. Even the way one side of my back aches apparently from the way I sit in my office chair return after only a very short session at the computer, and I am pleased to announce it is aching this very moment. I never thought I would miss such a thing; it is funny how things that bother us one day can some time later become akin to seeing an old friend for the first time in a while.
   The most pleasurable aspect of it all was finding that friends had been thinking of me, wondering if I was alright. This becomes increasingly important to me as I grow older, strolling down life's path to the inevitable end.
   It is back to writing for me, thinking of my friends as well, living this day with a slight smile upon my face knowing all is well.


Michael Shorde

The Change of Seasons

Summer was very nice this year, as I have kept in contact with many good friends, and made some new ones along the way. I oftentimes wonder, as I am sure other folks do, just where did the summer go? Although I worked feverishly, I feel as if I did not accomplish enough. Yet, I have all the free time in the world.

Just where did the summer go? The days change so slowly, the sunrise and the sunset, and we do not realize it until the last minute. Perhaps we are trying to hang on to those warms days when everyone always has plans for their free time. The outdoors, boats and barbeques, fishing and swimming...

It started with one or two cool evenings (cooler than usual, which I presume everyone is realizing the change is upon us), which developed into every night. When I wander outside in the early morning and see the moon traveling along a clear, starry sky, the cold dew on the grass, the automobiles, I remind myself that change is inevitable.

I just did not get enough done. I did not get out enough.

As the Earth hurtles along at a thousand miles per hour, spinning silently through the icy darkness, September approaches; it is the time of year that always reminds me that fall is upon us, the children are back in school, and another year passes by for me.

Soon, I will pass my days wishing for spring to grace us, the time when all things emerge from their hibernation and turn their faces to the sun.

The years pass by so quickly now. Where did the time go?

The Storm - A Simple Observation

   I awoke this morning around 3:00, after a night of tossing and turning. I decided that I was up for the day. After going outside for a cigarette, I plopped down in front of my computer to watch something on Netflix while I fully woke up.
   A short while later, I was on the front stoop, smoking and watching the lightning irradiate randomly across an angry sky. I was actually pleased, for there has always been something about stormy weather that I loved. It felt soothing, and for others, frightening.
   While sitting at my computer, the lightning proceeded to announce itself. It was distant, muffled at first; it showed no sign other than a mild storm would make. By then it was raining, and given the time, it was still dark outside. I lit the candles on my desk, as the power has been interrupted several times in the past.
   Lightning course down from the heavens, illuminating the dark morning sky, and exploding like an atom bomb. I could actually feel the building tremble. Now, don't get the wrong idea about me - I like a good storm, but when it sounds and feels like bombs exploding, I become a little uncomfortable.
   For around fifteen minutes, I restrained from going outside to smoke. The bombardment continued, and then grew faint. The worst was passing. I dared going outside, and the rain was still pummeling the earth. I like the rain. It is as if it cleanses everything and leaves it sparkling - the grass, trees, and even the cars parked in front.
   As with the natural law, the clouds split apart to allow the sun to shine down, causing all to sparkle. The crows appeared from their hiding places in the large trees nearby, and on the wide expanse of lawn next to me, many of them walked or flew across the grass in search of worms and other delicious things that always appear after a good rain. A bird's instincts are always right.
   Well, as the morning progressed, the sky cleared up, and I was busying myself with several different pieces of literature. I had suddenly felt compelled to write this down, a simple observation.
   Michael Shorde