Catt Dahman - Titanic 1912 - A Lovecraft Mythos Novel

A man came aboard, and all he could do was moan. His body was locked in a fetal position, and his fingers were chewed away. What savagery was this?

“What did this, Sir? Can you tell us?”

“Rats. No. Teeth. Legs. So many legs,” he said.

Quartermaster Grimes whistled, garnering our attention as he pointed to a ship some distance away that looked to be glowing. In the light, we saw one of the lifeboats had caught a rope, and they were checking out the ship. I felt a distinct dread when I viewed the other ship.

In front of us was the terrible yellowish mist, and some of us begged not to go near, but Mr. Grimes ordered the boat to be steered in that direction. He said we must empty the water that we had taken on. In truth, we had suffered quite a bit of water pouring in at various times, and many of us were miserable with our feet in the freezing water.

Mr. Grimes waded into the stinking ooze of the shoreline, “We shall unload everyone. Stay right here close, and do not wander away. We shall empty the boat of water, load up, and wait for help. It will only be a few moments.”

“I beg of you, Mr. Grimes, to please not make shore here. There are horrible creatures about,” I asked.

“Monsters? No. And do not frighten the women, Sir.”

“It will be quick, and we shall watch for trouble. We will be away from here soon,” John Morton said. He helped Jenny onto one of the many large stones that formed a shore so we could avoid the slimy ooze and mud. All around were large boulders some rounded and weather beaten, and others strangely looked like box-shapes.

I could not discern any cohesion of the elements. The designs did not seem random, and yet they fit no pattern.

“Mr. Grimes, you know there is no land here in the sea. Does this not strike you curious that it should be here suddenly?” Peter Cavendar asked.

“I am quite amazed and concerned, I assure you, Sir, but if we do not empty the water from our boat, I fear we will be in more danger. Let us make haste.” Grimes, let show for a second that he, too, was frightened by the strange land.

I did not want to be here. I was very frightened, but since I was here, it seemed to me that I should never again have such an opportunity as this to see this other world. In any case, there was nothing we could do but empty the water so our feet would not freeze and hope we might go unmolested in the strange place.

There were the boulders, and far away, I saw spirals of rock that went far into the sky. They were hatefully built and would not be found made by man, natural creature, or elements. They were foreign. Trees, blighted with fungus, dripped ichors on the stones, but they were not dead, only curious growths.

“Don’t lean on the trees, or go close. I fear they are not safe,” I said.

In a few seconds, I made out that some of the stones upon the ground were not random but formed a sort of path, weaving this way and that, following no proper order.

“Where are you going,” John asked.

“See this, a path. And there, is that a statue?”

“No… oh… look at it from this side, Howard,” Jenny said.

It was a four-legged creature, but the legs were fused and hard to determine. The legs and body took shape as I looked at the creation; it was of a large monster made only of bone, rough-edged and raw. No flesh or other covering represented itself in the stone. The head and neck of the thing bent over as if in respect or prayer.

I made my way under the statue and was able, in the dim light, to make out the face of a spider carved crudely, complete with fangs. “Horrid,” I said as I returned to the path, “but if you look at it from beneath and then from specific angles, the features are discernible.”

“It reminds me of how these terrible things are sometimes hard to really see when looked upon straight ahead. They are best seen from the corner of my eye or as I blink,” Jenny said.

“If this makes sense, I feel our minds have issues with attempting to understand what we see; thus, we can’t quite see the things clearly,” I said. Jenny and John nodded that they understood what I was trying to explain.

John Morton was a very intelligent man, and if he had cause to bury himself in books instead of cattle ranching, he would have been a most formidable philosopher. Jenny Cavendar, like her father, Peter, was also brilliant; sadly her gender kept her from deep discussions with like-minded people that would have allowed her to blossom.

A collection of dark, gnarled trees and tall, slender columns blocked out the view to the left. I ran my hand over the surface of the column to understand the carvings. Had I not been a student of star watching, I would not have understood the grooves and reliefs, but my hand communicated more to me than my eyes, and I had a slight understanding.

“Stars. Planets, but not ours, not ones I know.”

“Other worlds?” Jenny asked, “Who could have designed this? People, like us? No. Not here.”

“Maybe these were carved before the monsters came,” John said.

Mr. Merle spoke, “You speak of monsters and beasts, but those who sail, we have seen creatures that look to be horrid but are usual for the water. A sea louse is a slimy sea version of something like a cockroach. They are disgusting, and the big ones are a little spooky.”

Everyone listened.

“I’ve seen milk-white fish with no eyes, and crabs in groups so large you could not imagine, and they do not look like ones you would think of, but are no different looking than enormous spiders,” Merle finished.

John Morton nodded and said, “He is correct. What we find here may be from a different time or something. The creatures are just unfamiliar.”

Jenny grabbed at my arm, but I walked between them to see what was on the other side.

In seconds, Jenny, John, and a half dozen more stood beside me, curious. They had followed to see what fascinated me. Stairs, carved into the stone, led to a kind of temple. The stairs were uneven, some were small; some were large; none of them alike, and I knew it was not a blunder of sorts but planned just that way.

Chaos was the objective.

Grimes and Merle, and a crewman named Edwards, moved in front of me, protectively, and began to climb the stairs. We followed, telling one another and ourselves that this was a terrible folly and not the plan.

When we reached the top, we heard a noise. At first, I could not discern what I was hearing, but then, I understood that from one side, I heard a sad song, not of words or humming, but of strange syllables and sounds. It was very mournful. To the other side, I heard a slow thumping like that of something huge walking upon stones.

The ground vibrated.

“Quick, hide here.” Edwards ducked behind a boulder, and we followed suit, hiding ourselves away. Jenny pressed her face against John’s shoulder. Lilia grasped my hand. I held her hand tightly; she shook but was warm.

The pounding came closer, and it was like thunder.

Many of the gigantic creatures came our way. They were muscular. Their bodies somewhat resembled the body of an animal called a rhinoceros found on the African continent, but its legs were much longer, and each ended in a sort of hand with claws. The hand curled under so it walked upon its knuckles, like an ape. Each hand had three razor-tipped claws as long as my arm.

I can only describe the head as a bulbous, a lumpy sphere with small, dull eyes, tiny ears, and a small proboscis as a mouth.

Seven of the creatures arrived, walking past us towards the mournful singing. I can only say that they followed the voice. One by one, they walked off the edge of the rocks, and we heard violent splashes. As the last passed and fell away, we ran to see what became of them. It was a sort of cliff with water, no more than twenty feet below.