Horror In The Clouds

by Scott Shoyer

  “I think it looks creepy,” Brandon said.

  “Yeah,” Damien agreed as the car slowly passed by the auto graveyard. “I think it looks creepy too.”

  Damien jumped in his seat as the car approached the end of the property. Standing inside the chain-link fence was an old man who wore dirty overalls and had a stark white beard. Even more offsetting were the large, grayish-white cataracts in the old man’s eyes that Damien could see even from the car.

  A chill ran up Damien’s spine as the old man’s milky eyes followed their trajectory.

  Damien watched the old man through the rearview mirror and swore that the old-timer didn’t move an inch the entire time. Finally, the image of the man faded away as the car drove on.

  “Well,” Kate said, “that wasn’t too creepy.”

  4

  The Town of Derleth

  2AM

  The stillness of the night was violated by candlelight as the robed figures made their way through the field. The persons were dressed in long, black robes that hid their faces and exposed only their hands. The stygian individuals had walked this route countless times before and could retrace their steps blindfolded. They walked in pairs, in a single file, as they entered the woods. The flames from their candles flickered in the blackness of the night, creating shadows as they approached their destination.

  Tree branches became twisted tentacles in the candlelight and the six figures felt the presence of The Unnamable all around them. They knew It was always there and that It always watched them.

  As the six figures emerged from the tree line, they broke off to form a circle in the hidden field. Stealthily, each member of the Ancient Order of R’lyeh took their place in the circle and held their candle close to their chest. Each member silently recited the ancient phrase in the long-dead language:

  Th’ganoi zgwi’lth frlop’thulwm N’Xabez wshil’gahng t’nk.

  Th’ganoi zgwi’lth frlop’thulwm N’Xabez wshil’gahng t’nk.

  Th’ganoi zgwi’lth frlop’thulwm N’Xabez wshil’gahng t’nk.

  The cabal repeated the antediluvian words and only broke their stillness when they placed the large candles at their feet. They all joined hands and opened their eyes. They didn’t need to look around to know what was going to happen next. From the thicket off to the side, a seventh member of the cabal walked toward them. He had been waiting for the others and had his own secret preparations for the ceremony.

  The seventh member, the High One of the R’lyeh, wore a white robe with red trim on the arm and leg cuffs, and was adorned with the same ancient words that the members in the circle had chanted just seconds ago.

  Behind the High One walked a robed woman in a trance. She obediently kept three steps behind him and ignored the pain from the tiny stones and pointy branches underneath her feet. Her long, dark hair was neatly brushed and glided down to her lower back. The tiny blonde hairs on her arms stood up in the chill of the night air.

  The six members that made up the circle, looked down at their candles as the High One and the woman entered the sacred piece of land. Underneath each candle was an ancient symbol, drawn by the High One before the others had arrived. The symbols needed to be placed in a particular sequence, and each member knew only the meaning of their symbol. They never talked about or pondered what the other symbols around the circle meant. They all knew that to contemplate such things would end only in madness.

  The High One stood in the center of the circle and held his arms outward. The woman behind him dropped her robe and knelt down, naked, as she kept her gaze fixed on the ancient R’lyehian symbols on his robe. Her dark blue eyes seemed to look through the robe as if she was able to see the indescribable world from whence the language originated. Her nipples hardened and her eyes grew wider as she saw the ancient world. Like black ink being poured into water, the darkness filled her head and brought madness with it. Her mortal, human mind couldn’t comprehend the sights that spiraled through her head. Daemoniac spectrals and Ancient gods ripped through her mind.

  The six members of the Ancient Order of R’lyeh once again chanted the sacred words, but this time out loud.

  “Th’ganoi zgwi’lth frlop’thulwm N’Xabez wshil’gahng t’nk.”

  “Th’ganoi zgwi’lth frlop’thulwm N’Xabez wshil’gahng t’nk.”

  “Th’ganoi zgwi’lth frlop’thulwm N’Xabez wshil’gahng t’nk.”

  In the blackness of the sky above them, they all felt the clouds move. There was a palpable presence in the clouds and they knew their chants were bringing it to the sacred circle. The six members looked up into the darkness of the night and let their hoods fall from their faces. The High One still stood in the center of the circle, arms extended, with the naked woman.

  Sanity had left the woman’s mind as the darkness took over. She heard the chants of the people around her and understood the words. Her glimpse into the ancient world gave her just enough knowledge to realize that everything was hopeless.

  They are all around us, the mad woman thought. There is nothing we can do, there is nothing we could say to stop them.

  The woman looked away from the High One’s robes and immediately lost connection with the ancient world. Still mad from the sights she’d seen, the woman looked around her and saw the six robed figures as they looked up. As she turned to look at the figure in front of her, she saw the flash of the nine-inch ceremonial blade and felt as it entered the soft spot below her throat. The violence of the blade’s penetration took her breath away. The blade was pushed between her breasts and sliced her open to her stomach. She felt her warm blood gush from the wound and cover her body like a liquid blanket.

  The people around her stopped chanting the ancient words and closed their eyes as the tentacles shot down from the clouds. Even through the darkness of the night and the blackness of her insanity, the woman saw what came for her and screamed. Weakened by the loss of blood, the woman’s eyes shot open as one the tentacles entered her mouth. Her scream was violently cut off with a wet, gurgling sound. The other tentacle pushed itself into the shallow wound the High One had made with the knife and squirmed its way into her stomach.

  The next second she was gone—disappeared into the tenebrous sky.

  The six members of the Ancient Order pulled their hoods onto their heads as they opened their eyes. None had seen what had happened, but all knew the ritual.

  N’Xabez had claimed its sacrifice.

  None had ever seen the creature, but they knew what it looked like. As part of their initiation into the ancient order, each member had gazed for five seconds into the High One’s robe. Any longer would have resulted in madness. They’d glimpsed the Great Old One that their order served through his robe, and only through his robe.

  To see N’Xabez with one’s eyes was to know true madness—a madness from which there was no return.

  5

  Sheriff Kane Landry woke up feeling anxious. He always did this time of year. The off-season wasn’t easy on anyone. Revenue in the town dried up significantly and the souvenir shops full of Grand Canyon T-shirts, hats, postcards, magnets, and anything else they could get the words “Grand Canyon” on, closed for the season.

  Plus, there were the clouds.

  Sheriff Landry was grateful that the one diner in his sleepy little town remained open. The Derleth Diner had the best coffee and the heartiest breakfast in the area.

  The diner was connected to the town’s only hotel and was, in fact, run by the same family. The Harkshores prided themselves on being one of the few families in town that could trace their lineage back to one of the six founders of Derleth in 1810. In addition to the diner, the Harkshores also kept the small hotel open year round. They’d figured out a long time ago that they spent more money closing the hotel during the off-season than leaving it open, even though no one ever purposely passed through Derleth in the off-season.

  Especially no one from the neighboring towns.

  Derleth wasn’t a place you wanted
to find yourself in during the off-season.

  The town was a beautiful throwback to a more simple time. Derleth was home to just twohundred and fifty people. A few of the family lines could be traced back to the founding of the city over two hundred years ago. Something drew the original families of the city to this area of the country. Most of the town’s founders came from the East and left the safety of their homes as they were drawn to the area that would eventually be called Derleth. None of the families ever talked about why they left the East coast, but those families all had a similar background.

  They all had strange dreams where something beckoned them from the darkness to head west. None of the dreamers ever saw the source of the voice in their dreams, and none of them could exactly explain why they felt they needed to listen to the whispers in the darkness, but they all arrived around the same time to the place they now called home. The town of Derleth, in fact, pre-dated Arizona itself by one hundred and two years, and the Harkshore family’s relatives were the first to arrive.

  Sheriff Landry ate his breakfast and enjoyed his solitude. A few locals also ate in the diner, but besides a friendly nod when they entered, none of them felt the need to engage in conversation. The townspeople were protective of Derleth and held it in the same regard as the Hualapai people regarded their sacred ground. Tourism was welcomed and embraced and accounted for about eighty-five percent of the town’s revenue, but outsiders who wanted to move into the area were discouraged. That was one of Sheriff Landry’s main jobs.

  During tourist season, Sheriff Landry’s job was pretty simple. He’d break up the occasional bar fight, write up reports for traffic accidents, and give tourists directions on how to get to the Grand Canyon. But Sheriff Landry’s real job occurred during the off-season, when he would persuade tourists to drive through Derleth and discourage any outsiders from moving into the area. This was a job he took seriously, and he knew how important it was.

  For ten months out of the year, Derleth was for the tourists. Those other two months were for what lived in the clouds.

  Sheriff Landry finished his breakfast and left his money on the counter. As he walked out of the diner with a smile on his face, he knew it was going to be a good day. There were only two weeks left in the off-season, and so far, Sheriff Landry only had to encourage two different families to drive on through to the next town. They seemed like nice families, and after he treated them to lunch at the diner, they’d gone on their way.

  Sheriff Landry wished every off-season was as easy as this one.

  6

  Hualapai Lodge

  Peach Springs, Arizona

  “What do you mean you are closed?” Damien asked as he tried to keep his voice down and his temper in check. He and his family had pulled up to the Hualapai Lodge ten minutes ago, were tired, and couldn’t wait to get out of the car and into the lodge.

  The lodge was a beautiful building that combined traditional Hualapai aesthetics with modern engineering. As Damien and family had walked into the lobby, they’d been met with a wide open space and a large, fourteen-point buck head mounted over a beautiful fireplace. The walls were decorated with traditional Native designs and various pictures of the Grand Canyon and of the Colorado River. To the left of the lobby was the counter to check in, and to the right was a gift shop and the lodge’s restaurant.

  “I am very sorry for any confusion,” the Hualapai woman said from behind the desk of the check-in counter. “We close down the lodge for two months a year—the off-season—for maintenance and repairs.”

  The woman kept a steady voice as she explained why the lodge closed during the off-season. The Hualapai woman was in her mid-thirties with long, braided, coarse black hair. She had the chiseled cheek bones any model would kill for, a high, aquiline nose, and deep, hazel eyes. She was a beautiful woman, and Damien found it difficult to get mad at her.

  “Why wasn’t I told that the lodge was closed for two months when I called to book a reservation?” Damien asked as he lowered his voice. Before the woman could answer, Damien added, “I was only told that I wouldn’t need a reservation this time of the year.”

  “I am very sorry for the inconvenience,” was all the woman offered. “You probably spoke to someone who was training at the front desk. I realize you and your family have traveled a long way,” she said as she looked at Kate and Brandon as they sat on the couch by the fireplace. “Please allow the lodge to buy you dinner in our restaurant. It is a local favorite.”

  “I appreciate the offer,” Damien said, “but unless you offer us the couches in the lobby, we’ve got nowhere to stay for the night. Hell, I don’t even know what’s around here.”

  “Tell you what,” the woman said as she leaned a little over the check-in counter. “You and your family enjoy a complimentary dinner and I will call the hotel in the next town over and book you and your family the largest room they have, and we will pick up the bill for two of your nights.”

  “That… that sounds nice, thank you,” Damien said. “How far is the town from here?”

  “It is a short one hour drive,” she answered. “But during this time of year the scenery is breathtaking. You won’t even mind the drive.” The woman smiled and Damien shook his head.

  “Okay, that sounds fine,” Damien said as he felt the exhaustion of the day’s travels. “What’s the name of the town we’ll be staying in?”

  “Derleth,” the woman said as she avoided Damien’s eyes and looked at the computer monitor in front of her. “The town is Derleth, and it is a quaint little town with some beautiful scenery around it.” Then, once again looking back at Damien, the woman continued. “And I see they have an opening. I will call them while you are eating dinner. And I am again very sorry for the mix up here.”

  “It’s okay,” Damien said, too tired to argue anymore. “I appreciate your help in booking us that hotel.”

  As Damien turned away from the counter, he threw his arms into the air and said, “Derleth, here we come.”

  7

  Joseph Shaw woke from a deep sleep. The things he had dreamt about—the visions he had seen—would have driven most people mad. But for Joseph, it was just another stygian night of indescribable horrors.

  Joseph and the other ancestors of the founding fathers of Derleth all had the tenebrous visions. In the darkness of the night, when their minds drifted, the surviving descendants gazed into an abyss of horrors. They knew the source of the unmentionable horrors was N’Xabez Itself. Joseph shuddered as the name flashed through his head. He knew it was a dangerous game to think about the Ancient One—The One Before Time. Thoughts of the Ancient One in the conscious mind often resulted in madness and varying degrees of erratic behavior, and Joseph quickly thought of something else to shake the Unnamable from his head.

  Joseph always slept in late after a ritual. It wasn’t just the late night that filled him with an exhaustion he otherwise never experienced-it was the mental fatigue that weighed down on him. The ceremony took a lot out of all the members. The process of opening the mind and letting the darkness lurk into one’s head was the only aspect of the ritual Joseph dreaded. On one of the rare occasions when he had talked about the ritual with his wife, Karen, Joseph likened the process to injecting black ink into a glass of crystal-clear water. The ink would slowly swirl around until the water was completely black and you could no longer see through the glass.

  But for Joseph, the worst parts were the visions that came to those involved in the ceremony. Visions of a long-ago forgotten past.

  Of a world where ancient gods—the Elders—had ruled.

  Of a time that had been so dark that the universe itself wanted to forget about it.

  One of the Indescribable Ones had managed to break into this realm and had made contact with six families all those years ago.

  N’Xabez.

  Joseph Shaw’s ancestor had been one of the Chosen. He didn’t understand why it had chosen his family, and Joseph would never openly question it. Even think
ing such thoughts was putting his life and the life of his bloodline in danger.

  The members of The Order of N’Xabez didn’t worship the tentacled Ancient One in the traditional way. There was no church or holy place where they gathered on a weekly basis. N’Xabez didn’t want idolatry. It was beyond such petty notions of worship.

  N’Xabez demanded reverence.

  The Ancient One demanded the devotion of the blood-heirs of those it chose even though the mortals knew not why. They didn’t need to know.

  No mortal would ever be able to comprehend even the tiniest thoughts of an Elder.

  Joseph slid out of bed and shuffled to the bathroom. He had always experienced what he called a ‘mind fog’ the morning after a ritual. Some thought it was the cosmic energy that the Circle of R’lyeh summoned, but Joseph knew it was the mental invasion of N’Xabez’s thoughts and the visions It sent them.

  Joseph leaned against one arm as he peed, not trusting his own balance to hold his body up. When he was finished, he slid over to the bathroom mirror and gasped at the sight staring at him through the glass.

  He saw the aged and partially decayed face of a man. A palpable dankness filled the bathroom as he stared into the milky eyes in the mirror. Joseph watched as the skin on the man’s cheeks and forehead rotted and fell off in clumps. He could smell the man’s rotten breath as the bloodied, putrid flesh slumped onto the bathroom counter and floor.

  Joseph had experienced hallucinations like this before after a ceremony, but this was different. The smells, the lurking stench that filled the bathroom—these were things he had never experienced.

  Joseph closed his eyes tightly and hoped the vision in the mirror would vanish. He gripped the bathroom counter and took a few deep breaths. With each breath, Joseph thought the decayed odor in the room was fading. He controlled his breathing and slowly opened his eyes.