Best Little Witch-House in Arkham

by Mark McLaughlin

  “I can hardly wait until we land,” said the kindly old grandmother in the seat next to me. “I have family members on Asparagus Island who I haven’t seen in thirty years. Plus, I’ll get to see my six grandchildren for the first time. Why are you going?”

  “Oh, I’m tracking an ancient abomination and its current repercussions, and if I can’t stop the madness in time,” I said, “we’ll all end up dead. Unfortunately, I haven’t really figured out the entire puzzle, so there’s a good chance the whole thing will just blow up in my face, plunging the world into a nightmare of endless horror.”

  The old woman said nothing but only shifted in her seat, obviously nervous and perturbed. Maybe she had hemorrhoids.

  When at last we landed, I quickly checked into the nearest hotel. I then took a bath, put on some fresh clothes, and then went to the lobby restaurant for some chicken fajitas. The chicken meat was a little dry.

  Outside the hotel, I asked a young man in a red suit—I figured this was a native costume—for directions to the forbidden east end of the island.

  “Well,” the young man said, “this is the west end…the part that isn’t forbidden…so I suppose your best bet would be to walk east.”

  “So I see,” I replied. “You are trying to confuse me with your island witch-doctor voodoo mumbo-jumbo.”

  “Actually, the people of Asparagus Island are descended from French colonists.” He shrugged. “I’m not even from around here. I was on the flight in the seat behind you. You know, your voice sounds awfully familiar. In fact, I think you called me. I’m the Scarlet Acolyte of Horror.”

  “Your book’s still at my place,” I said.

  “I’m not worried about the book. I’m just here to stop an unspeakable calamity. Follow me. We’ll walk and talk.”

  Half a block later, we met the old woman. “Oh, hello, boys,” she said. “You were both on the plane.” She turned to me. “Your mindless ramblings really got me thinking. So I went to the Asparagus Island Public Library and figured out this whole ancient menace thing. That reminds me—I should bring that nice librarian some cookies, since she was kind enough to translate all those passages from the Necronomicon for me. Anyway, I’m off to the east end of the island now.”

  “Oh, so are we,” my companion said. “By the way, I am the Scarlet Acolyte of Horror.”

  “And I am Wilbur Tillinghast McAzathoth IV,” I stated.

  The old woman smiled. “I’m Doris. I was voted Miss Teen Baked-Goods of Rutherford County back when I was in high school.”

  The three of us continued walking toward the forbidden east end. “This whole eldritch conundrum should take us about ten minutes to fix, once we get there,” the Acolyte said.

  Doris seemed surprised. “Ten? I’d say five.”

  “Well, I guess you two are just the smartest people who ever drew breath!” I cried. “Would one of you care to explain these seemingly obvious developments to poor, stupid, pitiful me?”

  “Just watch and learn,” Doris said. Typical: just because she had once held a title, she still thought she was some sort of hot-shot. Those teen baked-goods competitions are all fixed anyway.

  It was a pretty small island, and in no time, we arrived at the forbidden east end. Soon we were standing on a hill overlooking a grassy valley filled with—wonder of wonders! horror of horrors!—ten-thousand big-hipped cats standing on their hindlegs, spinning ten-thousand hula-hoops in unison. A high, mind-numbing hummmm filled the air. All around the hula-cats, a battalion of large, ferocious tom-cats stood guard to prevent any interference with the diabolical feline ritual.

  “Just what I thought,” Doris said.

  “Yep. Same here,” the Acolyte agreed. “I think it’s the insidious frequency of the hum produced by the hula-hoops that will ultimately awaken the sleeping deity from its vile slumber.”

  “But how can we stop their malignant synchronized gyrations?” I whispered with dread.

  The old woman reached into her purse as the Scarlet Acolyte put a hand in the pocket of his blazer. Each then held out—

  A mouse. Doris had a white one and the Acolyte’s was brown.

  “Mice! Of course!” I said. “Once you release them, they’ll scamper past the guard-cats and into the valley. Those silly cats will be scurrying to catch them and they’ll soon forget all this hula-hoop nonsense.”

  “He’s finally caught on,” the old woman said.

  “Even a blind squirrel finds the occasional nut,” the Acolyte replied cryptically.

  Each lowered their precious, furry, world-saving burden to the ground.

  The mice moved toward each other and rubbed muzzles. As cute as buttons, they were! Together they looked toward the valley of ten-thousand cats.

  Then they ran off in the other direction.

  “We should have just tossed them down into the valley,” the Acolyte said.

  Doris sighed. “That would have been the thing to do.” She pointed toward the sea. “Well, I guess we’d better start running.”

  On the horizon, a massive shadow, bat-winged and serpent-bearded, arose from the ocean depths. It stretched out its claws, lifted its head and released a howl of cosmic triumph. But was it a howl? Perhaps it was more of a laugh—the victorious laughter of a mad being, drunk with power. A regular brouhaha.

  And so, I now sit in the hotel bar, hiding behind some potted ferns and writing this manuscript on all the napkins I can find. That horrendous, slime-spattered creature from the deep captured and ate Doris half an hour ago, and the only reason I escaped is because I tripped the Scarlet Acolyte and the monster slowed up a moment to chow down on him.

  Outside, people are screaming and buildings are collapsing, and since I just saw Abraham Lincoln walk by, I guess that means the space/time continuum is starting to come apart.

  The funny thing is, I just found a ball of yarn in my overcoat pocket—one of the things I’d grabbed on the way out of the apartment. You see, at the time I’d thought that if I washed my socks in the sink of my hotel room, the yarn might serve as a dandy makeshift clothesline.

  If I’d thought to throw the ball down into the valley of ten-thousand cats, they’d have gone absolutely nuts over it. Cats can play for hours with a good yarn-ball.

  Why, if I’d have done that, the world would still be safe and sound.

  I could just kick myself.

  Now The Healing Begins: A Guide to Children's Services at St. Toad's Medical Center

  When Bad Things Happen to Good Kids

  Hi, my name’s Brian! Last week, I got really sick, so Mommy and Daddy took me to Children’s Services at St. Toad’s Hospital. I’m sure glad they did. It’s a super-neat place for kids who need extra-special care.

  Kids need to visit Children’s Services for lots of different reasons. Some kids come in for check-ups, to make sure they don’t have any hidden problems, like the bowel slugs you can get from drinking tainted water. Some have health problems that won’t go away—they’re called ‘chronic’ diseases—and so they need extra-special care on a regular basis. For example, my sister Amy has sores on her arms and legs that get all weepy, and the nurse has to shine a special light on them to make them dry up. Some kids fall down and break their bones. Others get burned or attacked by mutants from the ‘Blasted Zone.’ The ‘Blasted Zone’ covers most of the surface of the Earth, which is why Children’s Services at St. Toad’s Hospital is safely located in the underground city of P’zogna.

  Some kids need ‘operations’—that’s when doctors have to open up the body to fix stuff on the inside. That may sound scary, but don’t worry, they always close up the body when they’re done. And all the doctors at St. Toad’s Hospital have been trained by other doctors with a lot more experience. Or, they’ve read old books from before the Great Invasion and have practiced on captured mutants or night-gaunts.

  Operations can be small, like when kids need their tonsils taken out. Operations can also be big, like when a kid finds she has a baby shoggoth growing
out of her back and it needs to be removed. When bad things happen to good kids, you can count on Children’s Services at St. Toad’s Hospital.

  Back before the Great Invasion, life was pretty simple. Families worked and played in peace and enjoyed TV dinners and video games. But then the evil priests of the space-demon Nyarlathotep found out how to throw open the Great Gates of Doom, and boy, once those Gates were opened, life was sure different after that.

  Now we all live in cities in big caves underground, or in towns under metal domes on the surface of the Earth. Those caves and domes are protected by magic, so Nyarlathotep and his bad friends can’t get us. Nyarlathotep sure is mean! But someday, us humans will figure out the right spell to cast him back out into the icy depths of outer space, and then we’ll all be happy.

  These days, life is all about change, and St. Toad’s Hospital is dedicated to helping families face the many health problems that come with living in a world threatened by cosmic evil.

  I Was Scared

  When Mommy and Daddy brought me to Children’s Services at St. Toad’s Hospital last week, I was scared, because I was feeling really sick and didn’t know what was going on. But the nice people there soon made me feel happy again. Let me tell you what happened to me, so you won’t be scared when you’re feeling sick and need extra-special care.

  One morning, after a really weird dream filled with fish and whales and other funny ocean creatures, I woke up all hot and sweaty. I was so wet, I thought I’d made pee in the bed, like a little baby. I looked at myself in the mirror over the dresser near my bed, and wow, was I shocked! I had a something long and slimy growing out of my chin. It was a ‘tentacle’—that’s a fancy word for a curly octopus arm.

  Mommy put some cream on the tentacle, but that didn’t do any good. Then Daddy tried to slice it off. Ouch! That really hurt. So Daddy stopped, and it’s a good thing he did. Daddy’s not a doctor, and people who aren’t doctors shouldn’t try to cut stuff off other folks.

  More tentacles started popping out from under my chin, and a few coiled out of my armpits. That was when Mommy called Children’s Services at St. Toad’s Hospital. The nurse who answered the phone listened to Mommy describe what was wrong with me. Then she told Mommy to bring me over right away.

  The nurse also told Mommy that since I’d be staying at the hospital for a few days, I could bring some of my favorite things from home. So I packed my blue pajamas, a few lucky amulets and my favorite toy car. Some kids take a teddy bear, a doll or a blanket.

  When we arrived at Children’s Services at St. Toad’s Hospital, a nice lady called Nurse Flugg brought me a wheelchair and took me to my room. I found out I had a roommate. Oh, boy! A new friend—someone to talk to and play with during my stay! The bed in my room was really neat. The head and foot of the bed both went up and down, and if I needed a nurse’s help, there was a big red button to press on my bedside table.

  Nurse Flugg told Mommy and Daddy they could spend the night in the hospital, if they thought I’d want them near me. Wasn’t that nice? Daddy told her I was a big boy and I’d be okay by myself, and that’s true. I am a big boy. I’ve always been bigger than other kids my age, and the tentacle disease was making me even bigger. Tentacles were starting to sprout from funny new places on my body, but I wasn’t worried. I was at the hospital, and I knew they’d make everything better.

  Mommy and Daddy and Nurse Flugg went away to fill out some papers, and I got to talk to my roommate. His name was Zeke, and he was sick with a case of Creeping Rot. He’d been swimming in an underground river that connected to the sea, and a Deep One had tried to grab him. Zeke had escaped, but bad germs from the creature’s slimy paw were making the skin on his right leg all puffy and green.

  Soon Nurse Flugg came back and told me more about what to expect during my stay. She said I would eat breakfast, lunch and dinner in bed, just like a prince. She also showed me her ‘thermometer’—that’s a medical tool used to see if a kid’s body is too hot or too cold. Mommy and Daddy had one at home, but it didn’t beep like the one Nurse Flugg used.

  Nurse Flugg explained that in a few hours, Dr. Gilman would run a few tests on me to find out what was wrong. She then suggested I take a little nap, since lots of sleep is an important part of staying healthy.

  So I took a nap, and dreamed I was swimming at the bottom of the sea, around really old ruins and the bones of huge creatures that lived in the deeps, never knowing the light of day.

  What was Wrong with Me

  When I woke up, I found myself chained to a huge metal table, surrounded by doctors, nurses and hospital ‘security’—that’s what you call the guards, who make sure everyone at the hospital is safe. I also felt very angry, and it seemed like I was looking at the world through an evil red mist of hate. I wanted to hurt all the nice people. I wanted to make bad things happen, which is not how I usually am. I’m a good boy.

  Nurse Flugg explained to me that I’d growth four times bigger during my nap, and that I was transforming into one of the ‘star spawn.’ That’s a fancy name for a creature that looks like a smaller version of Cthulhu, a giant space-demon who used to be trapped in a temple on the ocean floor. When the Great Gates of Doom opened, Cthulhu was released from his underwater prison, along with many of his alien followers, including some star spawn.

  Standing next to Nurse Flugg was Dr. Gilman, a nice man around Daddy’s age. He said Cthulhu can talk to people and touch them in their dreams, and it looked like Cthulhu had touched me. That bad touch was turning me into one of the star spawn. Oh no! It was also making me hate nice people and want to eat them. That was a ‘symptom’ of my illness—meaning, a clue there was something wrong with me.

  The Road to Recovery

  Dr. Gilman and Nurse Flugg ran some tests and decided to treat me with star-stone powder. Star-stones are like magical toys that can be used to scare off evil monsters, because they’re etched with the Elder Sign, which is very powerful. Star-stones are neat! They added a little powder to some water and gave me an ‘injection.’ That means they put something to heal me inside my body through a hollow needle. It did hurt a little bit, but I’m a big boy—I didn’t cry a single tear. But I did try to attack Dr. Gilman and Nurse Flugg with my tentacles. The urge to kill was a very bad symptom. I’m sure glad it went away.

  Several nurses also circled my table and whispered holy ‘incantations,’ and those helped, too. ‘Incantations’ help to drive the forces of evil out of the body. Children’s Services at St. Toad’s Hospital uses the most up-to-date magic to help you get healthy again.

  Next I was taken to a special ‘recovery’ room with star-stones attached to the walls in holy patterns. ‘Recovery’ means you’re getting better. In that room, Nurse Flugg cried out more incantations and injected more star-stone water into my tentacles. Soon, the tentacles started shrinking and a few even dropped off. My body started shrinking, too. I was turning back into a kid again. Hurray! Soon the urge to kill was all gone.

  I told Nurse Flugg I wanted to get back to my room and play some games with my new friend Zeke. She let me know that Children’s Services at St. Toad’s Hospital has a playroom where kids can have fun during their stay. If a kid is really sick and has to stay in his or her room, the nurses will bring plenty of toys and lucky amulets for the kid to play with.

  A Special Service, Just for Kids

  Once all my tentacles had fallen off, I was able to go back to my room. There, I saw something that really made me sad. Zeke’s bed was empty. Nurse Flugg told me he’d died from the Creeping Rot. But lucky for Zeke, ‘Children’s Services’ has two meanings: not only does St. Toad’s Hospital offer health services for kids, but they also offer ‘funeral’ services when kids have problems that are just too big to fix. A ‘funeral’ is a gathering where friends and family come to honor someone who has died.

  Mommy and Daddy said I could go to Zeke’s funeral, which was held in the special recovery room. Zeke’s recover was very different from mine. Dr. Gi
lman screamed a special incantation to turn Zeke into a ‘zombie’—that means, a dead person who can still move around and be useful. Dr. Gilman told us that Zombie-Zeke would soon be put to work, gathering things from the Blasted Zone.

  The Blasted Zone has a lot of neat stuff in it, like metal and bricks. And the best way to go get that stuff is to send a zombie after it. A living person wouldn’t last more than five minutes in the Blasted Zone, since it’s so hot and full of strange gases. Dr. Gilman said Zombie-Zeke should be able to gather stuff for at least two or three weeks. And since he’s not alive, the monsters that lurk there won’t bother him.

  Zombie-Zeke gave me a great big smile. I’m sure glad he’ll be gathering stuff in the Blasted Zone, instead of me!

  It's the Place to Go

  Remember, everyone at Children’s Services at St. Toad’s Hospital wants to help. Keep in mind, it’s always okay to ask questions if you don’t understand what’s happening. The treatment may hurt a little sometimes, but being sick or turning into a thing with tentacles is a lot worse.

  Always talk to your family, your nurse and your doctor about how you feel. They don’t want you to be afraid. Children’s Services at St. Toad’s Hospital is the place to go when you’re sick or injured. If there’s something wrong with a kid, they’ll know just what to do next.