The Cave (thing)

I am reluctant to tell this for in its telling my sanity will most certainly be questioned, as I myself have many a time questioned the sanity of my aquaintance and good friend Ness Danto, since his return from a long voyage abroad. But I must, through all this, hold firm in my belief that I examined, in every possible way, the narrative which was given to me by Ness and could not logically come to any other course of action than that of which I am guilty. Believe me when I say that my decision was not wholy based on Ness' story. For I myself had ventured into that damned and accursed place. I must now be very careful in choosing my words. The account of the events between the twenty-fifth and twenty-sixth of March must not be marred by facts tinted with emotion or fancy.

A stench, that I later came to associate with rot, hit my nostrils when I was within range. As said, the pit, with a radius of slightly over three feet, gaped open on the hillside beneath Meiler Boulder. The boulder, with its worn hieroglyphics, had been standing witness, in this cold damp earth, since before the earliest Scottish record. I slipped as I attempted a not very wise fully erect descent into the brooding darkness. My eyes grew accustomed to the lack of clean sunlight as I stood listening for what Danto had reluctantly described, in a place which had only the languid dripping of water and the echoes of my own breath to offer. The contour of the grotto which Ness' digging had a week ago penetrated were indistinct, but a downward slope of the floor and ceiling could be detected, punctuated only by the anticipated stalactites and stalagmites. At the flick of a switch my lamp dispersed the desolate darkeness as shadows leaped behind every feasable corner. The warm glow of the lamp seemed out of place in this dismal world of grey.

The sloshy mud gave way, in six feet, to a floor punctuated by a myriad of cracks, slowly dispersing stalagmites, and spare rocks which had evidently fallen from the cieling, twelve feet above. I sturdily walked ever downward, as my steps grated through the millenia old stone, only to see the inklings of sunlight grow dim behind me and the shadows leap ever more vigorously ahead. The cieling seemed to get higher as the seconds marked by the rhythm of water hitting old, accursed stone, became minutes and minutes hours. An eternity passed before I had another glimpse of the cieling. This time it had a definate reddish cast (a feature that Ness had failed to note in his hurried account that had sent me from Miskatonic, in my beloved Arkham, on this doomed quest). The water was ticking, and after a brief note of the curious imaginary designs on the cieling and some of the stalagmites, I set on my way; following my friend's scribbled directions in that damned little yellow notebook to the letter. I skip a stalagmite here, note a marking there, smell this, listen to that. Bah! What good did it do me when I was scrambling and sliding through the maze of tunnels under hell itself?

Eight thousand water drips later, after stomping down through the endless arrangement of stalagmites my legs gave out and I dropped into a small grey puddle on an infinate expase of grey rocks. In my dream a mad flute-player played in the background of a hundred-thousand unheeded drops of water. And I walked tall through tall passageways of shining, black stone. And I willed open a thousand great gates to a thousand worlds. And I willed a hundred great races to rise and fall. And I feared, feared through the tall passageways of dark, black stone. And I closed the thousand great gates to a thousand worlds and ran. I ran, ran through the tall passageways of dull, black stone with fear on my trail. I ran 'till I could run no more. And my legs gave out and fear found me at last. And I slept.

I awoke to the startling sound of silence. The water drops had quieted to below my auditory range and my sturdy waterproof Citizen wristwatch had somehow quit at eleven PM. My lamp had dimmed though I could see that I was leaning on a wall of a strange supposedly sedimentary rock that Ness had described in his yellow notebook. There were symbols here (this time real and not imaginary) akin to the hieroglyphics on the Meiler Boulder. After sneezing a bit from some of the accumulated dust that I had blown off the wall I noticed the symbols had also been noted in the book. I stood and started to follow the wall to my right while the shadows veered and swerved excitedly around me. With the light at half brightness the gloom was even more apparent and my concentration, without the rhythm of the water, drifted to the smell that was becoming more and more apparent and was eminating from some unplaceable source. Twice I stumbled in the debris and the shadows jolted in the swaying light. Aeons passed and I saw the other side of the cavern, riddled with passageways. I searched for a particular one, noted in the notebook that is now but ashes spread over a stream under the clean sunlight. When I reached the entrance with the appropriate symbols the queer silence lifted and was replaced by the more terrible sound, the sound mimmiked to me by Ness. But the sound, if it could be called that, was not of human orgin nor of anything of this earth but something infinately more horrible. A black itching, scratching piping by the mad flute player of my dream. I nearly dropped my lantern and ran blindly then. But the thought of returning to the infinate grayness behind me and of what would lie beyond the entryway brought a hint of logic back to me. A hint of sanity was all I needed. This must be some form of audio-hallucination experienced by spelunkers on extensive treks in enclosed areas. I stepped bravely through Ness's passage. I stepped into a black room with a black stone in the center. This also was just as Danto described; and, I quickly noted the measurements that had been overlooked by Ness (3', 6', 9'). A curious (5" radius, 1" depth) circular depression was in the center and five perfectly straight (2", 4", 5") channels led away from it to the four corners and one of the short sides. This utterly fascinated me; and, almost all thought of the insane piping fled in my excitement. This was too symetrical to be a natural formation in sedimentary rock. The measurements were too exact and the stone too queer. It foiled all attempts made by me to obtain a sample for carbon testing that would no doubt place it somewhere in the Pleistone age. How it survived intact for such millenia was, however, beyond me. No there must have been a seal or a door before Ness stumbled in here. A combination of seclusion of this room from major fault lines and lack of moisture to erode it would probably account for it; though, still making it as hard as diamond.

I stood up and looked for passages that were noted by Ness. There were two where there should have been three. I trembled. The lamp flickered. A hint of logic crept in and I let out the breath that I had been holding for a while. Ness must have made a mistake. He forgot to mention the measurements of a find like the black stone, so anything as simple as an extra passageway could surely be overlooked without a second thought. His idiotic babblings of creatures surviving from aeons past hold no water. Where's the proof? A hard rock? A bit of wind howling through some air cavity, making noise? Bah! Logic. That was the way out.

I chose the left passage and in my foolishness walked bravely through it. Damn that accursed place with the accursed piping through the fould, black walls. eternity cannot kill that which cannot die. Nor are its foul minions stopped. Deep under the earth where only the black walls can see they breed and flourish until the stars are right and they outnumber the clean, living things of this earth and the Old Ones rule once more.

I chose the left passage and walked through it. The ancient city of Hlanith kept its secrets for many millenia until two tiny humans sought to disturb it. Now, as I stepped through the door with my flickering light, with my heart full of brave thought, I heard the piping loudly once more. And, before the lamp flickered out I saw. I saw, and once again I knew fear. I did not see the unnamable god that once ruled ehre; for, woe to any mortal which sets eyes on such blasphemy, on such utter unreal horror; though, what I did by chance catch a glimpse of was a thing too terrible for my brave thoughts and deeds and my logic. The thing was a minion of the god. A yellowish, stooped, pupilless contradiction of nature with libs, having no connection with the body, thrust out of the air at impossible angles. The jaws were open and drooling, some of the limbs seemingly involuntarily jerking. And yet the thing seemed to have some sort of intelligence. But an intelligence utterly unlike our own, hating the very matter poor, hopeless humans are made of. Seeing that my mind gave out. I dropped the failed lamp when all turned black. And slept.

But I awoke running. Running like I had never run before. Through the dark halls and passages. Tripping over stalagmites. And still I kept running. In that last moment when the lamp dropped. I must have heeded the water then; the screaming water seeping through this fould and heartless ground. I must have broken free of the mad piping and my instincts must have taken over. I do not know what happened for sure, but it is the only logical explanation left. For, I somehow scrambled out of that accursed place under Meiler Boulder, and ran screaming through the woods to my car, and home.

I found Ness the next day in his room. Rather I found what was left of him. The same prevailing odor as in the cave hung around his room as I mounted the steps. It had been a week since what I left as Ness Danto had started to rot.

The next day I took dynamite from the house cellar and headed for the Boulder. The explosive I packed well inside the cave, but I did not go further than the sunlight shone. A long fuse was set and now the accursed gate is but a heap of rubble. It is true that I was the one who set the elder sign on both sides of the gate so that those from without should not pass that way again. But I tell you that I am not guilty of the murder of Ness Danto, but of what he had become. For when I entered the room at the top of the stairs, the room that was shuttered from light on all sides, what I found there of Ness was but an empty shell. And the thing walking and drooling was the thing from the cave.