Post by August Skies on Feb 2, 2014 21:35:24 GMT -5
A Time of Depression
October 21, 2012 at 12:53am
A Time of Depression
By:Damian Sykes
It was 6 am when he awoke. He didnt know what time it was now but he suspected it probably took him 45 minutes or so to get his bus ticket. He waited in the fog outside of the bus station reluctant to sit inside with the locals. He didnt know them but he didnt like them to much by the sight of them, and he simply didnt feel like talking. He leaned up against the side of a brick wall and thought about his family. Now gone forever, he would never get a chance to say "I love you" again to either his wife or his daughter.
The bell rang outside the bus station. A portly young man of about 20 something with rosy cheeks came out of the small station they had there and held up his hand. "Arent you the guy bound for Innsmouth?" He asked. The man just looked up with sadness in his eyes. "That would be me." He replied. "Well, your bus will be arriving here in about ten minutes." the attendant said. He was trying to hide his emotion as he had been taught to do, but he had thought that perhaps the young man was inexperienced in life to notice, or perhaps the fog concealed his expression.The attendant wandered back into his small office and sat, looking out the window at the blanket of fog that covered the town.
A few minutes later, a rickety bus came up and opened the door. A strange man of tremendous stature got out of the bus and with a loud and gurgling voice he grunted. "Innsmouth." The man walked up to him and handed him his ticket. The driver studied both the man and the ticket. "Walter Jackson you say? Why are you headed fer Innsmouth?" Walter just got on the bus and sat down near the back, acting like he didnt hear. He didnt want to have to answer. He bought his ticket, and he didnt have to answer anyone.
The driver grunted, and after a while he boarded his bus and closed the doors shut. Before he took off he turned around to face the lone man in the back and asked, "We can either take the short route or the scenic route thru another town. Which is it?"
His glossy eyes looked back with some sort of disdain.
Walter thought for a moment.
"Scenic" said Walter as he slumped into his seat. The driver glared at him for a moment and turned around slowly. Walter would have cared if it weren't for his almost crippling depression. For the most part of the trip he looked out the window but every once in a while the driver would grumble something and he would look up to find the driver would be glaring at him with his head almost turned all the way around, while still driving. As soon as he looked the driver turned around, sometimes coughing or would simply mumble something, but it was unsettling none the less. Walter guessed it were the coat he was wearing that came up over the neckline to grant the illusion and that the driver may have been concerned about his obvious sadness.
A while went by and all Walter could tell is that he had seen nothing but trees and old grain silos and was headed north. Nothing much "scenic" about it. It actually hurt him to look at the farm land. He was a farmer not too long ago,but that life seemed to be completely separate from the one he was living now. It was getting cold. He wrapped himself up in his coat a little tighter. "Where are we headed? I thought we was headed east but it seems were headed north." Walter asked. "You said SCENIC!" The driver almost screamed. Walter didnt seem to notice. "So whats there to see? All Im seein is farmland and ole shotty grain silos."
The driver took a pocket watch out of his pocket. "Were headed for Rowley. Gunna pick up some surplies an head for Innsmouth.Be there in five minutes." He blurted. His voice was hoarse and it seemed he were always coughing. Walter hoped he didnt have the TB and were driving passengers around with no ventelation. Walter felt uneasy. His eyes wandered. He looked around the interrior of the bus. Old worn and torn leather seats. Springs popping up thru half of them. Ripped up canvas hang swaying back and forth from the rocking of the bus on the old dirt road. Rusted metal greenish roof fading thru. Suddenly his eyes fixed on something preculiar. A small box labled "Unger Bro's" was stuck inside one of the coils hanging out of the back of the seat to the left of his seat. Walter looked up at the driver who was pulling into some sort of small town. Presumably Rowley. He leaned to the left while the driver wasnt looking and snatched the box. All of the sudden the driver turned. "Were here. Get off the bus if you want. We will be here fer a while till I get supplies."
Walter got off the bus. The town was unremarkable for the most part, until he noticed the townspeople staring at him almost in amazement. He looked back at them wondering what was wrong with them. A man of particularly smaller stature came up and greeted him. "Welcome to...Rowley Massachusets. Im pleased to have you here in my fine town. Um...." He paused. "Where did you come from?"
Walter looked down at him. "What do you mean?" The small man looked at him for a moment. Almost studying him. "Did you come from Innsmouth or did this bus bring you from somewhere else?" He asked. After a moment Walter replied "Ipswitch is where the bus picked me up at." The small man smiled. "Well let me offer you a drink or something, I want to ask you a few questions." Walter looked up and thought for a moment. Surely it was strange to be offered such a welcome. Do they give free liquor to everyone that comes here? He agreed with a nod and followed the short man into the small tavern they had.
It was a noisy place,even at 3 pm. It seemed perhaps their hospitality were due to it being an irish settlement. But he wasnt sure. He sat down on a stool next to the small man who ordered a drink for the both of them. "Where you headed"
"Innsmouth. Im headed there for a bit of relaxing. Heard it was quiet there." Walter replied as he sip his whiskey.
The small man eyed him for a moment. Studying him for a while, then finally replied. "Well, Im the Mayor of this here town. When I saw you got off the bus from Innsmouth we knew something were strange. See, weve been havin trouble from Innsmouth for a while. We think somethings strange is happening there. Weve sent for a detective for the strange dissapearance of a boy there not long ago. If you still want to go, watch yourself, and if you see anything...strange, dont hesitate to let us know" The small man smiled and walked out leaving Walter at the bar. He sat there drinking for a moment thinking about what the man had said. He finished his whiskey and headed out.
The town was still bustling with life outside. People walked around and children played even though it was grey and depressing outside. The bus driver grabbed his arm from behind him." Dont think were gonna head out till tomorrow. Theres two hotels or you cen sleep outside. I dont care." He said as he lumbered over to the nice two story hotel. Walter would have been mad in the past. But he really didnt care. He looked at the two hotels. One was a delapitaded mess, probably cheap but also probably a good way to get lice or worse. The other was a two story brand new high dollar almost resort quality.
Walter looks up at the second story of the nice hotel. He sees the familiar glare of the bus driver in the center window. The curtains close almost instantly. He looks back and forth at the two choices. He didnt plan on staying anywhere but Innsmouth, and he certainly wasnt wealthy by any means, but he decided that a nice rest could possibly make him feel better. He headed across the street to the nice hotel. When he walked in the hotel owner greeted him and slid a large leather book across the desk and opened it.
"How may I help you sir?" He asked with a sly grin.
"Sure." He said, as he reached for his wallet. "How much will it be for one night?"
The hotel owner paused for a moment. "Uh... thirty five dollars"
Walters eyes widned "What? He exlaimed in disbelief. Thats 5 times the normal rate. He thought it may be the way he looked. Maybe the hotel didnt want him to stay there. Then when he saw the golden coins and stacks of money in the register he realised that was probably a fair price.
He reluctantly took out the money out of his wallet and handed it to the grinning hotel keep. He was handed a ornate brass key in return.The keeper took out his pen and dipped it into a small glass jar of red ink. "And your name would be sir?"
"Walter Jackson" He replied
He looked up for a moment and then penned the name. "That would be one night on the first floor here on the left room three. Do you have any bags?"
"No." Walter said as he turned to walk away and made his way to his room.
He took his key to room three and opened his door and shut it securely behind him. The room was a fairly spacious and pleasant. Even the smell was nice. Roses were in a vase on a small table beside the large four poster bed. He suspected that was the source of the smell. He was tired from his strange day, and his thought he had of the hotel making his mood better were dashed by the outrageous price. He sat on the edge of the bed thinking about the strange things that happened to him in the past twenty four hours. The bus driver, the ride, the small fellow buying him drinks and the warning. The gold in the hotels register. Where did people get gold coins around here? He thought. He decided it was time to go to bed.
He stood and started taking all of the stuff out of his pockets and put them up on his dresser.
Wallet, a Case sod buster knife so sharp it could split hairs, pocket watch,a notepad,a tin of tobacco plugs,a small zippo wrapped in electrical tape, and... he pulled out the small box from his pocket that he had found on the bus. Unger Bro's It said on the side. He opened it to find a beutiful stainless steel pen and small tin of ink. The pen was brand new in its box, and was engraved with a sea serpent design. Walter studied it for a while. It was probably expensive. The find brightened his day somewhat. He took off his clothes and hung them up in the closet, then took a shower and went to bed.
During the night he saw the flames again. He knew it was a dream, and this usually was enough to wake him. But this time it didnt. He walked thru the burning house as he heard his daughter and wife screaming for help. He ran for the staircase and went up to his daughters bedroom and opened the door. Just then the flames engulfed him and blackness swallowed him.
He awoke screaming.
Walter got up and washed his face with cold water. He checked his watch. Four thirty-five in the morning. He didnt sleep for the rest of the night .
When the daylight broke at six in the a.m. he heard a slamming on his door."GET OUT HERE NOW ER IM LEAVIN YOU BEHIN!" Walter knew who it was, but was still shocked at the rudeness of his driver. He was already dressed and opened the door almost immediately. The bus driver was standing there with a horrible expression on his face. "Were READY!" He yelled and he trudged off.
Walter made his way to the bus which was already idling and got on. To his surprise a young lady was on the bus. She had a cheery expression on her face which was a change. She wore a red knee length dress and a pink floral sweater with a small brown hat. Walter believed she was what the media was calling a flapper girl. He had never seen one but had heard about them quite alot.
The driver waited for him to sit and he started the bus and took off in a south-east direction. Walter looked out the window for the most part of the trip. The daylight shown thru the fog in some parts of the trip but mostly the fog was too thick. Most of the scenery was clouded in mist. The parts that werent revealed either grey wastes or strange settlements of people that looked somewhat like the driver. Grey and pale, somewhat sickly and massive. It seemed that as soon as the bus was seen by the locals they would dissapear inside. Walter would only catch a glimpse of them before they slammed the door shut.
Near the end of the trip the road got bumpier. He hadnt seen a paved road since he stayed the night in Rowley. He wondered why the hotel had been filled with such wealth but the surrounding town was all poor with dirt roads and the like.
It was a strange predicament that lent no explanation. He turned his attention to the woman who he was sitting behind. During the entire trip she hadnt said anything, and he certainly didnt find her attractive as he wasnt after women since his wife had died, but he just wanted human kindness, and he certainly wasnt going to start a conversation with the driver.
"So where are you headed?" He asked the lady.
She looked back almost in shock that he had finally spoken. Smiling she replied in a soft delicate voice " Im headed to Innsmouth. My name is Betty. How are you?"
After that the trip seemed to pass with ease now that conversation was to be had. Walter and Betty took turns exchanging stories but Walter didnt reveal too much of himself nor did she of her. Just meaningless pleasantries were exchanged. Thats all Walter wanted and it made him feel better.
The driver kept looking back but neither Walter or Betty took notice much. The sound of the drivers heavy,labored breathing interrupted them a few times but they continued in conversation. "When we arrive at Innsmouth, I would very much enjoy for you to accompany me to my destination Mr.Jackson." She said
Walter looked out the window of the old bus, which was still rocking gently back and forth. "Where are you headed? Im headed to the center of town, and I am afraid I dont have familiarity with the layout of Innsmouth as I have never been there before."
She reached into her pockets and got some small leather dress gloves which she put on. "Im headed to a relitives home and Im afraid that its somewhat dangerous for a lady like myself to be alone at night. Especially in Innsmouth."
Walter saw the dark gloomy broken and scattered skyline of the town in the distance. The destination was coming up and for what? Why did he have to come here of all places? Why now? Was it really going to help him through all of his suffering?
Walter was startled out of his melancholy daydream. "Well, are you going to be a gentleman and walk me to my Mothers home or not?" said Betty, who was already standing up on the bus leaning against one of the seat backs.
Walter knew he shouldn't have tried to make friends. They always had a tendency to quickly and ruthlessly take advantage of him.They were always asking favors and begging for handouts. Couldnt he have a friendship without having to be an emotional hostage?
"No, Im afraid I have to be somewhere shortly. Im sorry, Im sure you will be just fine." He said as he got up to walk to the front of the rickety old bus. The bus pulled into a short little driveway in front of his hotel. The driver cut off the ignition and almost angrily yanked the key out, and opened the door so hard it slammed against the outside of the bus. Walter looked at him as he stood outside impatiently beconing for them to "Get a move on." He would have normally said something to such a person about such a display of sour character, but he didnt feel he had it in him to do so. He didnt think it would make a difference either.
When he got off the bus he waited for a moment because he felt somewhat guilty for not walking the poor girl to her Mother's. The sky was darkening quickly for such an early time in the day, and he felt it may rain. She got out of the bus and smiled at him faintly, then started walking down the road.
Walter took a moment to gather his surroundings. The town of Innsmouth was a fishing village that prospered some years back. Typical sea port, but this one felt, odd. The coblestone street was missing rocks here and there, and the occasional shoot of green weed grew up between the stones here and there. The buildings were in a similar sort of disrepair. A general store on the left and a butcher's shop on the right. The hotel behind him and in front of him lay the town square. A broad opening with a mold covered statue in the center. Directly across from him past the statue was located a particularly ominous building that made Walter feel with no small amount of unease. It was a large building, made of some kind of stone that seemed to be used only for this one building. It seemed out of place with its lack of conformity to the others. The sign on the door read "The Esoteric Order of Dagon."
Walter studied it for a moment, not that he cared. He was somewhat reluctant to go to his room. He felt that it would be the end of the line. He wasnt enjoying his trip, but he felt that nothing could return his happiness. The fact had dawned on him that if he go to his destination, and he found no relief, he would be worse off than before.
The building had stained glass windows. Darker than normal stained glass one would see in churches. This stained glass was almost an ebony color, but it had a hint of green here and there. It was so dark that it was hard to distinguish pictures in the stained glass. He could make out a few images, or what he thought to be images, but most of the windows looked like a shattered black mirror. He turned around.
"This is it." He murmered under his breath. He walked up to the front door. The sign on the door was made of cast iron and was rusted almost beyond recognition but after a brief study he determined the sign said "Innsmouth Inn" He ignored the cheesy name opened the surprisingly sturdy, heavy door.
The hotel was as bad as the town. Thick, Matted, and filthy red carpet line the hallways. Stains everywhere. The smell of fish permeated the air mixed with unknown smells. Paintings of random people filled the hallway, most of them thick and bulky just like the driver. Glazed eyes protruding out of their greenish sockets. Certainly not going to be anyone from this town modeling for the new Sears catalog. He thought.
He made his way around a hallway and thru a large double door way. There sat an attendant at the desk. He just stood there, alone in silence, staring at him. Walter walked up to the desk man.
" How can I help you ....Sir?" He said in a gruff voice while staring with his unblinking eyes.
Walter grabbed the pen from the fountain. "I have a reservation for a Mrs.Jackson room 203."
Walter suddenly grew cold. He hadnt heard himself say that name since the accident. The words seemed to cut through him like a knife. He didnt know why he was here, he didnt know what was going on back at home, and he didnt know if he had a home to go back to. He felt abandoned by life and truly alone.
"Sir.....SIR...." The desk clerk was shaking him by the shoulder. Suddenly Walter snapped to. "Oh, sorry...I think I'm feeling a bit of a sickness coming on..Must be the sea air."
The desk clerk looked at him for a moment. "Where you from...Outsider?"
Walter had been called many names before , but he didnt expect "Outsider" to be one of them. He took notice to the furrowed brow of the large man standing behind the desk in his stained,old suit.
"Im from down south a ways. By the by do you think I can get that key now? I think Im going to head in for the night." Walter put the hotels pen back on the desk and took the tarnished brass key from his hand. Turned and went up the stairs. The hotel man followed him. He didnt know what he was doing , but he felt uneasy. The feeling to him was much akin to being in a field while feeding a bull. Walter remembered the feeling of pitching hay as feed and then getting a certain feeling down the back of his neck, then looking up to see a bull ready to charge.
He was getting that feeling again... Ten fold.
He turned and put his left hand on the mans shoulder. "I seem to have forgotten my bag on the bus, would you fetch it for me?" The man just stood there. Staring. Standing there on the steps looking into walters eyes. Unblinking. Walter felt almost sick with such a foreboding feeling he got from this man. He put his hand in his pocket and felt along its spine. In a moments notice he could have this little sharp blade out and his opponents guts on the floor if he so chose. He turned slowly, the man still behind him on the stairs. He walked up, every step the man mimicked. He would step, then he would hear another step behind him. Perhaps this man was a practical joker he thought? Walter kept his hand on the knife. The man followed him all the way to his door. Keeping his glaring eyes fixed on him.
Walter nervously took his key and slid it into the lock of his room. The lock opened with a click that made the hallway echo somewhat. He walked in the room and turned to see the man. The man was standing at the doorway, silent, but this time he had the most terrible smile on his face. Sharp rows of disgusting teeth protruded everywhere out of his mouth. He looked as if he were filled with psychotic pleasure.
Walter slammed the door and locked it.
He walked back and forth in his room trying to get that image out of his head. No man should smile like that, No man should act like that.
He thought for an hour or two trying to shake off the feeling that man gave him but he couldnt. Then all of the sudden, the hair on the back of his neck stood bolt upright. He hadnt heard him walk away.
He walked over to the door, his breath heavy with terror. He didnt want to look, but he had to know. He leaned down.
The man hadnt left. He was still standing there, facing the door.
Walter could see the mans leather boots from the crack underneath the door. He didnt shift his weight, he didnt walk back and forth, he just STOOD there. WAITING.
Walter got up and looked around the room in a panic. Seeing a large bookshelf made of solid mahogany filled with leather bound books he scooted it in front of the door as quick as he could. Then he put the nightstands in front of that.
He wanted as much weight between him,the door, and that PSYCHO as possible.
He sat on the bed thinking. He wasnt normally the man to panic, but things like this WEREN'T normal. Night approached. He looked out his second story window. He didnt want to stay in this hotel with this madman. Fear gripped him at his core. He kept staring in the direction of the door, fearing at any minute the man would attempt to enter.
That smile, those bulbous eyes,those TEETH.. He shuddered.
He got out his case, sodbuster knife and looked out the window as the last remnants of daylight turn to orange.
He needed to act now, while people were still out there. Surley the people would come to his aid...Wouldnt they? He struggled to open the window and when he got it opened he looked down to call for help. What he saw disheartened and confused him.
There were people lined up, staring at his window. Watching, as the man outside the door was. They werent just curious bystanders. They were WAITING for him. They were predators. Some of them had pichforks, others had knives, and some had shovels. Walter knew their intent but he didnt know why.
Walter closed the windows. and sat there. What was he to do? He could jump out the window and hope that he could create enough confusion to escape, or try to attempt escape past that THING blocking the door?
Walter decided not to face the wierdo out of the door and decided if he was going to go out...He was going out in style.
He got up from the edge of the bed. The heavy bookshelf had began rocking back and fourth. That THING was trying to get in now. Before he left he cleared his head and remembered why he was there.
"My Wife" He murmered. He went to the bookshelf which was quaking back and forth under the stress of the man trying to force open the door. He looked for a book. The encyclopedia letter T.
He opened it up and there it was. A red envelope stamped with a letter H.
He pocketed it and headed for the window. They were still there. Their strange facial expressions fixed on their faces making them look like poorly made wax sculptures from some circus sideshow. He noticed a ledge in front of him. He edged out onto it deciding that jumping may not be the best idea. They were screaming now, in some language that he had never heard.
Just as he made his way out to the ledge he heard the door behind him break open. From the outside he used his foot to close the window knowing the dried cracked paint in the hinges would save him some time because of how hard it was to open. The glass erupted as the bookshelf flew through the window. The heavy oak smashed some of the spectators below. He looked down seeing the pinkish grey gelitan of one of their brains. The crowd just looked down and stepped aside. Walking under him. One had slipped in the brains and gotten up. Seemingly unaffected by the horrible, bizarre spectacle.
He had to hurry. The thing was back there, he knew. But he didnt want to look back. That things face would probably freaze him with fear. He hurried around the corner with the crowd still under him.
"Ug Cato Vodla!!!" One of them screamed.
He looked across to the neighboring building and jumped down onto the roof. Hearing the screams of them behind him and the buildings door slamming against its wall as they entered the hotel to get on his path. He heard the man thump down behind him. He had already cleared that roof and onto another. He jumped down onto a first story building and kept running. He was getting winded. He knew he couldnt keep running forever. He came to his third roof and jumped. Falling short, he grabbed onto the wooden shingles and slipped and fell.
The fall was short and it didnt hurt much. He landed on his back and hit his head and was a little dizzy. He opened his eyes and saw a figure coming towards him.He acted out of instinct and rolled over. Almost instantly the smiling man from the hotel landed with a thump so loud he knew if he hadnt moved his ribs would be in that mans shoeleather.
Walter got up to one knee and pushed off of the mans shoulder, knocking him down and helping walter stand up. He reached into his pocket and got his sod buster opened it with his thumbnail.
SHHHHWOMMP. A short shovel flew at his face. Its tip hit him in the chin knocking a chip out of it spraying blood all down his face. The cut was deep and filled with rust and dirt. Deep red blood flowed from his wound.
Walters anger served as his pseudo-morphene. His vision blurred and fear gripped him with the sight of the mans smiling and laughing face. His left hand came up and grabbed the mans elbow pushing it towards the mans chest. The knife came up and was thrust down into the mans nasal cavaty. The smiling mans eyes grew wide but he never lost his smile. The man started producing guttaral coughing and sputtering sounds as the thick mucousy blood filled his mouth and lungs.
He tilted back and spat sending Thick Blackish, red blood with a hint of greenish yellow into Walters face and mouth. Walter stood locked with the knife in the mans nasal cavaty. His other hand occupied by holding the mans shovel arm. He tried to wipe off his face. The smell was horrible, the sight of the man was horrible, everything was horrible.
He began to struggle more violently pushing Walter against a dumpster. He was surprised at the mans strength. He used so much force that it knocked the breath out of Walter. He held firm to the knife and since he was pressed up against the dumpster in the alley he was close to the smiling man. Blood poured down its face and nose. Walter began to smile himself and began twisting the knife in the cavaty. Cartlidge began milling up and popping around the wound. he hit an artery he thought as the blood began to deepen in color to a violet hue. The sight and sound was too much for Walter. The blood began flowing down his sleve and the scream of the thing began to peirce his ears. The thing pushed Walter away and began to choke and puke everywhere. Walter saw his chance and pushed his sodbuster into its right side piercing the liver and digging it back thru his kidneys.
Blood jetted out of the creature almost flooding the alley. The thing sat in a corner trying to scream for help but Walter just kept holding a foot on its chest so it couldnt get up. The thing died there with a smile still streaked across its horrible face.
Walter bent down and picked up the drenched shovel. Blood still poured from his close call on his chin. He turned to the alleyway which now teamed with people from the town. He looked behind him. There was a stormdrain open leading under the building next to him.
He looked back at the crowd. One of them stepped foreward to speak.
"We arent going to hurt you, we know your sick, we want to help you. Come with us."
They were still holding pitchforks.
They were still wanting to kill him.
Walter hesitated only for a moment, turned and ran for the drainage. More screams echoed behind him. "HES TRYING TO ESCAPE!" Their odd voices gurgling. He gripped the old rusted metal grate with both hands and dived in.
The darkness was first. It engulfed him. His sight and his mentality.
The temperature was second. Cold, ice hit him like a skinny dip in the artic ocean.
Then there was the smell. A mix of feces and stagnant, filmy piss mixed with animal rot.
The darkness receded only temporarily as he passed drainage grates located above ground while he floated down hill via the flowing shit n' piss river. He could feel the slime on the brick walls of the sewer as he bumped against them. He could feel sometimes the writhing of something in the "water" with him. He thought. But what was worse was the burning sensation he got from all his openings, natural and his injurys as the infectious wretch poured into his mouth and eyes and his wounds.
Some time later, Walter had vomited out his guts, not caring to try not to get it on his chin. He just vomited. He didnt care. He floated down stream for about an hour in that mess untill he reached the shoreline. He pulled himself out of the sewage pipe and landed in the sea below him.
It turns out he wasnt the only man to crawl thru a river of shit and come out clean on the other side.
DUR HUR.
He washed himself in the mild antiseptic of the salt water. He washed the shit out of his hair and eyes and gently cleansed his wound. What little good it would do. He took his shoes off and threw them into the sea, glaring at them like they were his circumstance personified as they sank into the waters.
He sat on the beach and fell asleep.
"Quick, we have to move!" Said a familiar voice.
Walter woke to see his wife standing in front of him. Pulling him up.
As soon as he was on his feet he was kissing her. Holding her tight.
"Dont forget me Walter." She said as she looked into his eyes. Walter was crying. He was trying to fight back the tears because he didnt want his view to be impaired not even one bit.
Walter had her in a grip that could squeeze a steal pole in two. He sat there screaming.
"I know you arent real. I know you are gone. But, would I be crazy...IF I JUST ASKED YOU FOR A LITTLE MORE TIME!"
He opened his eyes. He was face down in the sand. Clutching a bit of gravel so hard that his hands were bleeding and bruised.
He cried as his mental torment waved over him. It felt so encompassing and so close to him it was as if it were a blanket to comfort him yet it were made of needles.
He laid there crying for a few more hours until they came and got him. He didnt care anymore. He just sat there as the group huddled around him and put him on a stretcher.
As they carried him back into Innsmouth he just laid there heaving. Occasionally he would mutter a few words. "Kill me." and "do it." but mostly he kept silent. They threw him into a cold dark room with a small cot. He just laid there at the foot of the bed until the jailers came in and strapped him into some type of chair.
The leather straps hurt. But he didn't give a fuck.
They injected him with something. Walter looked down at the needle as they put it in his arm. The guard had the same look as the rest of them. Crazy teeth and an unnatural smile. He wanted to cause Walter pain and fear, but walter spit in his face and said "I hope that shit was bleach."
The lines started blurring.
"I hope it was too." was his reply.
He never heard him walk away.
This sleep was a good one. No burning building. No painful memories. Just sleep. He woke up and his mouth was dry and tacky feeling. His wounds were all healed and bandaged. It seems he had been out for a while. It was daytime now and his cell was apparently a hospital. He was in some kind of hospital bed.
He looked under the covers. He was nude and his clothes were nowhere to be seen.
Footsteps were heard outside the room.
October 21, 2012 at 12:53am
A Time of Depression
By:Damian Sykes
It was 6 am when he awoke. He didnt know what time it was now but he suspected it probably took him 45 minutes or so to get his bus ticket. He waited in the fog outside of the bus station reluctant to sit inside with the locals. He didnt know them but he didnt like them to much by the sight of them, and he simply didnt feel like talking. He leaned up against the side of a brick wall and thought about his family. Now gone forever, he would never get a chance to say "I love you" again to either his wife or his daughter.
The bell rang outside the bus station. A portly young man of about 20 something with rosy cheeks came out of the small station they had there and held up his hand. "Arent you the guy bound for Innsmouth?" He asked. The man just looked up with sadness in his eyes. "That would be me." He replied. "Well, your bus will be arriving here in about ten minutes." the attendant said. He was trying to hide his emotion as he had been taught to do, but he had thought that perhaps the young man was inexperienced in life to notice, or perhaps the fog concealed his expression.The attendant wandered back into his small office and sat, looking out the window at the blanket of fog that covered the town.
A few minutes later, a rickety bus came up and opened the door. A strange man of tremendous stature got out of the bus and with a loud and gurgling voice he grunted. "Innsmouth." The man walked up to him and handed him his ticket. The driver studied both the man and the ticket. "Walter Jackson you say? Why are you headed fer Innsmouth?" Walter just got on the bus and sat down near the back, acting like he didnt hear. He didnt want to have to answer. He bought his ticket, and he didnt have to answer anyone.
The driver grunted, and after a while he boarded his bus and closed the doors shut. Before he took off he turned around to face the lone man in the back and asked, "We can either take the short route or the scenic route thru another town. Which is it?"
His glossy eyes looked back with some sort of disdain.
Walter thought for a moment.
"Scenic" said Walter as he slumped into his seat. The driver glared at him for a moment and turned around slowly. Walter would have cared if it weren't for his almost crippling depression. For the most part of the trip he looked out the window but every once in a while the driver would grumble something and he would look up to find the driver would be glaring at him with his head almost turned all the way around, while still driving. As soon as he looked the driver turned around, sometimes coughing or would simply mumble something, but it was unsettling none the less. Walter guessed it were the coat he was wearing that came up over the neckline to grant the illusion and that the driver may have been concerned about his obvious sadness.
A while went by and all Walter could tell is that he had seen nothing but trees and old grain silos and was headed north. Nothing much "scenic" about it. It actually hurt him to look at the farm land. He was a farmer not too long ago,but that life seemed to be completely separate from the one he was living now. It was getting cold. He wrapped himself up in his coat a little tighter. "Where are we headed? I thought we was headed east but it seems were headed north." Walter asked. "You said SCENIC!" The driver almost screamed. Walter didnt seem to notice. "So whats there to see? All Im seein is farmland and ole shotty grain silos."
The driver took a pocket watch out of his pocket. "Were headed for Rowley. Gunna pick up some surplies an head for Innsmouth.Be there in five minutes." He blurted. His voice was hoarse and it seemed he were always coughing. Walter hoped he didnt have the TB and were driving passengers around with no ventelation. Walter felt uneasy. His eyes wandered. He looked around the interrior of the bus. Old worn and torn leather seats. Springs popping up thru half of them. Ripped up canvas hang swaying back and forth from the rocking of the bus on the old dirt road. Rusted metal greenish roof fading thru. Suddenly his eyes fixed on something preculiar. A small box labled "Unger Bro's" was stuck inside one of the coils hanging out of the back of the seat to the left of his seat. Walter looked up at the driver who was pulling into some sort of small town. Presumably Rowley. He leaned to the left while the driver wasnt looking and snatched the box. All of the sudden the driver turned. "Were here. Get off the bus if you want. We will be here fer a while till I get supplies."
Walter got off the bus. The town was unremarkable for the most part, until he noticed the townspeople staring at him almost in amazement. He looked back at them wondering what was wrong with them. A man of particularly smaller stature came up and greeted him. "Welcome to...Rowley Massachusets. Im pleased to have you here in my fine town. Um...." He paused. "Where did you come from?"
Walter looked down at him. "What do you mean?" The small man looked at him for a moment. Almost studying him. "Did you come from Innsmouth or did this bus bring you from somewhere else?" He asked. After a moment Walter replied "Ipswitch is where the bus picked me up at." The small man smiled. "Well let me offer you a drink or something, I want to ask you a few questions." Walter looked up and thought for a moment. Surely it was strange to be offered such a welcome. Do they give free liquor to everyone that comes here? He agreed with a nod and followed the short man into the small tavern they had.
It was a noisy place,even at 3 pm. It seemed perhaps their hospitality were due to it being an irish settlement. But he wasnt sure. He sat down on a stool next to the small man who ordered a drink for the both of them. "Where you headed"
"Innsmouth. Im headed there for a bit of relaxing. Heard it was quiet there." Walter replied as he sip his whiskey.
The small man eyed him for a moment. Studying him for a while, then finally replied. "Well, Im the Mayor of this here town. When I saw you got off the bus from Innsmouth we knew something were strange. See, weve been havin trouble from Innsmouth for a while. We think somethings strange is happening there. Weve sent for a detective for the strange dissapearance of a boy there not long ago. If you still want to go, watch yourself, and if you see anything...strange, dont hesitate to let us know" The small man smiled and walked out leaving Walter at the bar. He sat there drinking for a moment thinking about what the man had said. He finished his whiskey and headed out.
The town was still bustling with life outside. People walked around and children played even though it was grey and depressing outside. The bus driver grabbed his arm from behind him." Dont think were gonna head out till tomorrow. Theres two hotels or you cen sleep outside. I dont care." He said as he lumbered over to the nice two story hotel. Walter would have been mad in the past. But he really didnt care. He looked at the two hotels. One was a delapitaded mess, probably cheap but also probably a good way to get lice or worse. The other was a two story brand new high dollar almost resort quality.
Walter looks up at the second story of the nice hotel. He sees the familiar glare of the bus driver in the center window. The curtains close almost instantly. He looks back and forth at the two choices. He didnt plan on staying anywhere but Innsmouth, and he certainly wasnt wealthy by any means, but he decided that a nice rest could possibly make him feel better. He headed across the street to the nice hotel. When he walked in the hotel owner greeted him and slid a large leather book across the desk and opened it.
"How may I help you sir?" He asked with a sly grin.
"Sure." He said, as he reached for his wallet. "How much will it be for one night?"
The hotel owner paused for a moment. "Uh... thirty five dollars"
Walters eyes widned "What? He exlaimed in disbelief. Thats 5 times the normal rate. He thought it may be the way he looked. Maybe the hotel didnt want him to stay there. Then when he saw the golden coins and stacks of money in the register he realised that was probably a fair price.
He reluctantly took out the money out of his wallet and handed it to the grinning hotel keep. He was handed a ornate brass key in return.The keeper took out his pen and dipped it into a small glass jar of red ink. "And your name would be sir?"
"Walter Jackson" He replied
He looked up for a moment and then penned the name. "That would be one night on the first floor here on the left room three. Do you have any bags?"
"No." Walter said as he turned to walk away and made his way to his room.
He took his key to room three and opened his door and shut it securely behind him. The room was a fairly spacious and pleasant. Even the smell was nice. Roses were in a vase on a small table beside the large four poster bed. He suspected that was the source of the smell. He was tired from his strange day, and his thought he had of the hotel making his mood better were dashed by the outrageous price. He sat on the edge of the bed thinking about the strange things that happened to him in the past twenty four hours. The bus driver, the ride, the small fellow buying him drinks and the warning. The gold in the hotels register. Where did people get gold coins around here? He thought. He decided it was time to go to bed.
He stood and started taking all of the stuff out of his pockets and put them up on his dresser.
Wallet, a Case sod buster knife so sharp it could split hairs, pocket watch,a notepad,a tin of tobacco plugs,a small zippo wrapped in electrical tape, and... he pulled out the small box from his pocket that he had found on the bus. Unger Bro's It said on the side. He opened it to find a beutiful stainless steel pen and small tin of ink. The pen was brand new in its box, and was engraved with a sea serpent design. Walter studied it for a while. It was probably expensive. The find brightened his day somewhat. He took off his clothes and hung them up in the closet, then took a shower and went to bed.
During the night he saw the flames again. He knew it was a dream, and this usually was enough to wake him. But this time it didnt. He walked thru the burning house as he heard his daughter and wife screaming for help. He ran for the staircase and went up to his daughters bedroom and opened the door. Just then the flames engulfed him and blackness swallowed him.
He awoke screaming.
Walter got up and washed his face with cold water. He checked his watch. Four thirty-five in the morning. He didnt sleep for the rest of the night .
When the daylight broke at six in the a.m. he heard a slamming on his door."GET OUT HERE NOW ER IM LEAVIN YOU BEHIN!" Walter knew who it was, but was still shocked at the rudeness of his driver. He was already dressed and opened the door almost immediately. The bus driver was standing there with a horrible expression on his face. "Were READY!" He yelled and he trudged off.
Walter made his way to the bus which was already idling and got on. To his surprise a young lady was on the bus. She had a cheery expression on her face which was a change. She wore a red knee length dress and a pink floral sweater with a small brown hat. Walter believed she was what the media was calling a flapper girl. He had never seen one but had heard about them quite alot.
The driver waited for him to sit and he started the bus and took off in a south-east direction. Walter looked out the window for the most part of the trip. The daylight shown thru the fog in some parts of the trip but mostly the fog was too thick. Most of the scenery was clouded in mist. The parts that werent revealed either grey wastes or strange settlements of people that looked somewhat like the driver. Grey and pale, somewhat sickly and massive. It seemed that as soon as the bus was seen by the locals they would dissapear inside. Walter would only catch a glimpse of them before they slammed the door shut.
Near the end of the trip the road got bumpier. He hadnt seen a paved road since he stayed the night in Rowley. He wondered why the hotel had been filled with such wealth but the surrounding town was all poor with dirt roads and the like.
It was a strange predicament that lent no explanation. He turned his attention to the woman who he was sitting behind. During the entire trip she hadnt said anything, and he certainly didnt find her attractive as he wasnt after women since his wife had died, but he just wanted human kindness, and he certainly wasnt going to start a conversation with the driver.
"So where are you headed?" He asked the lady.
She looked back almost in shock that he had finally spoken. Smiling she replied in a soft delicate voice " Im headed to Innsmouth. My name is Betty. How are you?"
After that the trip seemed to pass with ease now that conversation was to be had. Walter and Betty took turns exchanging stories but Walter didnt reveal too much of himself nor did she of her. Just meaningless pleasantries were exchanged. Thats all Walter wanted and it made him feel better.
The driver kept looking back but neither Walter or Betty took notice much. The sound of the drivers heavy,labored breathing interrupted them a few times but they continued in conversation. "When we arrive at Innsmouth, I would very much enjoy for you to accompany me to my destination Mr.Jackson." She said
Walter looked out the window of the old bus, which was still rocking gently back and forth. "Where are you headed? Im headed to the center of town, and I am afraid I dont have familiarity with the layout of Innsmouth as I have never been there before."
She reached into her pockets and got some small leather dress gloves which she put on. "Im headed to a relitives home and Im afraid that its somewhat dangerous for a lady like myself to be alone at night. Especially in Innsmouth."
Walter saw the dark gloomy broken and scattered skyline of the town in the distance. The destination was coming up and for what? Why did he have to come here of all places? Why now? Was it really going to help him through all of his suffering?
Walter was startled out of his melancholy daydream. "Well, are you going to be a gentleman and walk me to my Mothers home or not?" said Betty, who was already standing up on the bus leaning against one of the seat backs.
Walter knew he shouldn't have tried to make friends. They always had a tendency to quickly and ruthlessly take advantage of him.They were always asking favors and begging for handouts. Couldnt he have a friendship without having to be an emotional hostage?
"No, Im afraid I have to be somewhere shortly. Im sorry, Im sure you will be just fine." He said as he got up to walk to the front of the rickety old bus. The bus pulled into a short little driveway in front of his hotel. The driver cut off the ignition and almost angrily yanked the key out, and opened the door so hard it slammed against the outside of the bus. Walter looked at him as he stood outside impatiently beconing for them to "Get a move on." He would have normally said something to such a person about such a display of sour character, but he didnt feel he had it in him to do so. He didnt think it would make a difference either.
When he got off the bus he waited for a moment because he felt somewhat guilty for not walking the poor girl to her Mother's. The sky was darkening quickly for such an early time in the day, and he felt it may rain. She got out of the bus and smiled at him faintly, then started walking down the road.
Walter took a moment to gather his surroundings. The town of Innsmouth was a fishing village that prospered some years back. Typical sea port, but this one felt, odd. The coblestone street was missing rocks here and there, and the occasional shoot of green weed grew up between the stones here and there. The buildings were in a similar sort of disrepair. A general store on the left and a butcher's shop on the right. The hotel behind him and in front of him lay the town square. A broad opening with a mold covered statue in the center. Directly across from him past the statue was located a particularly ominous building that made Walter feel with no small amount of unease. It was a large building, made of some kind of stone that seemed to be used only for this one building. It seemed out of place with its lack of conformity to the others. The sign on the door read "The Esoteric Order of Dagon."
Walter studied it for a moment, not that he cared. He was somewhat reluctant to go to his room. He felt that it would be the end of the line. He wasnt enjoying his trip, but he felt that nothing could return his happiness. The fact had dawned on him that if he go to his destination, and he found no relief, he would be worse off than before.
The building had stained glass windows. Darker than normal stained glass one would see in churches. This stained glass was almost an ebony color, but it had a hint of green here and there. It was so dark that it was hard to distinguish pictures in the stained glass. He could make out a few images, or what he thought to be images, but most of the windows looked like a shattered black mirror. He turned around.
"This is it." He murmered under his breath. He walked up to the front door. The sign on the door was made of cast iron and was rusted almost beyond recognition but after a brief study he determined the sign said "Innsmouth Inn" He ignored the cheesy name opened the surprisingly sturdy, heavy door.
The hotel was as bad as the town. Thick, Matted, and filthy red carpet line the hallways. Stains everywhere. The smell of fish permeated the air mixed with unknown smells. Paintings of random people filled the hallway, most of them thick and bulky just like the driver. Glazed eyes protruding out of their greenish sockets. Certainly not going to be anyone from this town modeling for the new Sears catalog. He thought.
He made his way around a hallway and thru a large double door way. There sat an attendant at the desk. He just stood there, alone in silence, staring at him. Walter walked up to the desk man.
" How can I help you ....Sir?" He said in a gruff voice while staring with his unblinking eyes.
Walter grabbed the pen from the fountain. "I have a reservation for a Mrs.Jackson room 203."
Walter suddenly grew cold. He hadnt heard himself say that name since the accident. The words seemed to cut through him like a knife. He didnt know why he was here, he didnt know what was going on back at home, and he didnt know if he had a home to go back to. He felt abandoned by life and truly alone.
"Sir.....SIR...." The desk clerk was shaking him by the shoulder. Suddenly Walter snapped to. "Oh, sorry...I think I'm feeling a bit of a sickness coming on..Must be the sea air."
The desk clerk looked at him for a moment. "Where you from...Outsider?"
Walter had been called many names before , but he didnt expect "Outsider" to be one of them. He took notice to the furrowed brow of the large man standing behind the desk in his stained,old suit.
"Im from down south a ways. By the by do you think I can get that key now? I think Im going to head in for the night." Walter put the hotels pen back on the desk and took the tarnished brass key from his hand. Turned and went up the stairs. The hotel man followed him. He didnt know what he was doing , but he felt uneasy. The feeling to him was much akin to being in a field while feeding a bull. Walter remembered the feeling of pitching hay as feed and then getting a certain feeling down the back of his neck, then looking up to see a bull ready to charge.
He was getting that feeling again... Ten fold.
He turned and put his left hand on the mans shoulder. "I seem to have forgotten my bag on the bus, would you fetch it for me?" The man just stood there. Staring. Standing there on the steps looking into walters eyes. Unblinking. Walter felt almost sick with such a foreboding feeling he got from this man. He put his hand in his pocket and felt along its spine. In a moments notice he could have this little sharp blade out and his opponents guts on the floor if he so chose. He turned slowly, the man still behind him on the stairs. He walked up, every step the man mimicked. He would step, then he would hear another step behind him. Perhaps this man was a practical joker he thought? Walter kept his hand on the knife. The man followed him all the way to his door. Keeping his glaring eyes fixed on him.
Walter nervously took his key and slid it into the lock of his room. The lock opened with a click that made the hallway echo somewhat. He walked in the room and turned to see the man. The man was standing at the doorway, silent, but this time he had the most terrible smile on his face. Sharp rows of disgusting teeth protruded everywhere out of his mouth. He looked as if he were filled with psychotic pleasure.
Walter slammed the door and locked it.
He walked back and forth in his room trying to get that image out of his head. No man should smile like that, No man should act like that.
He thought for an hour or two trying to shake off the feeling that man gave him but he couldnt. Then all of the sudden, the hair on the back of his neck stood bolt upright. He hadnt heard him walk away.
He walked over to the door, his breath heavy with terror. He didnt want to look, but he had to know. He leaned down.
The man hadnt left. He was still standing there, facing the door.
Walter could see the mans leather boots from the crack underneath the door. He didnt shift his weight, he didnt walk back and forth, he just STOOD there. WAITING.
Walter got up and looked around the room in a panic. Seeing a large bookshelf made of solid mahogany filled with leather bound books he scooted it in front of the door as quick as he could. Then he put the nightstands in front of that.
He wanted as much weight between him,the door, and that PSYCHO as possible.
He sat on the bed thinking. He wasnt normally the man to panic, but things like this WEREN'T normal. Night approached. He looked out his second story window. He didnt want to stay in this hotel with this madman. Fear gripped him at his core. He kept staring in the direction of the door, fearing at any minute the man would attempt to enter.
That smile, those bulbous eyes,those TEETH.. He shuddered.
He got out his case, sodbuster knife and looked out the window as the last remnants of daylight turn to orange.
He needed to act now, while people were still out there. Surley the people would come to his aid...Wouldnt they? He struggled to open the window and when he got it opened he looked down to call for help. What he saw disheartened and confused him.
There were people lined up, staring at his window. Watching, as the man outside the door was. They werent just curious bystanders. They were WAITING for him. They were predators. Some of them had pichforks, others had knives, and some had shovels. Walter knew their intent but he didnt know why.
Walter closed the windows. and sat there. What was he to do? He could jump out the window and hope that he could create enough confusion to escape, or try to attempt escape past that THING blocking the door?
Walter decided not to face the wierdo out of the door and decided if he was going to go out...He was going out in style.
He got up from the edge of the bed. The heavy bookshelf had began rocking back and fourth. That THING was trying to get in now. Before he left he cleared his head and remembered why he was there.
"My Wife" He murmered. He went to the bookshelf which was quaking back and forth under the stress of the man trying to force open the door. He looked for a book. The encyclopedia letter T.
He opened it up and there it was. A red envelope stamped with a letter H.
He pocketed it and headed for the window. They were still there. Their strange facial expressions fixed on their faces making them look like poorly made wax sculptures from some circus sideshow. He noticed a ledge in front of him. He edged out onto it deciding that jumping may not be the best idea. They were screaming now, in some language that he had never heard.
Just as he made his way out to the ledge he heard the door behind him break open. From the outside he used his foot to close the window knowing the dried cracked paint in the hinges would save him some time because of how hard it was to open. The glass erupted as the bookshelf flew through the window. The heavy oak smashed some of the spectators below. He looked down seeing the pinkish grey gelitan of one of their brains. The crowd just looked down and stepped aside. Walking under him. One had slipped in the brains and gotten up. Seemingly unaffected by the horrible, bizarre spectacle.
He had to hurry. The thing was back there, he knew. But he didnt want to look back. That things face would probably freaze him with fear. He hurried around the corner with the crowd still under him.
"Ug Cato Vodla!!!" One of them screamed.
He looked across to the neighboring building and jumped down onto the roof. Hearing the screams of them behind him and the buildings door slamming against its wall as they entered the hotel to get on his path. He heard the man thump down behind him. He had already cleared that roof and onto another. He jumped down onto a first story building and kept running. He was getting winded. He knew he couldnt keep running forever. He came to his third roof and jumped. Falling short, he grabbed onto the wooden shingles and slipped and fell.
The fall was short and it didnt hurt much. He landed on his back and hit his head and was a little dizzy. He opened his eyes and saw a figure coming towards him.He acted out of instinct and rolled over. Almost instantly the smiling man from the hotel landed with a thump so loud he knew if he hadnt moved his ribs would be in that mans shoeleather.
Walter got up to one knee and pushed off of the mans shoulder, knocking him down and helping walter stand up. He reached into his pocket and got his sod buster opened it with his thumbnail.
SHHHHWOMMP. A short shovel flew at his face. Its tip hit him in the chin knocking a chip out of it spraying blood all down his face. The cut was deep and filled with rust and dirt. Deep red blood flowed from his wound.
Walters anger served as his pseudo-morphene. His vision blurred and fear gripped him with the sight of the mans smiling and laughing face. His left hand came up and grabbed the mans elbow pushing it towards the mans chest. The knife came up and was thrust down into the mans nasal cavaty. The smiling mans eyes grew wide but he never lost his smile. The man started producing guttaral coughing and sputtering sounds as the thick mucousy blood filled his mouth and lungs.
He tilted back and spat sending Thick Blackish, red blood with a hint of greenish yellow into Walters face and mouth. Walter stood locked with the knife in the mans nasal cavaty. His other hand occupied by holding the mans shovel arm. He tried to wipe off his face. The smell was horrible, the sight of the man was horrible, everything was horrible.
He began to struggle more violently pushing Walter against a dumpster. He was surprised at the mans strength. He used so much force that it knocked the breath out of Walter. He held firm to the knife and since he was pressed up against the dumpster in the alley he was close to the smiling man. Blood poured down its face and nose. Walter began to smile himself and began twisting the knife in the cavaty. Cartlidge began milling up and popping around the wound. he hit an artery he thought as the blood began to deepen in color to a violet hue. The sight and sound was too much for Walter. The blood began flowing down his sleve and the scream of the thing began to peirce his ears. The thing pushed Walter away and began to choke and puke everywhere. Walter saw his chance and pushed his sodbuster into its right side piercing the liver and digging it back thru his kidneys.
Blood jetted out of the creature almost flooding the alley. The thing sat in a corner trying to scream for help but Walter just kept holding a foot on its chest so it couldnt get up. The thing died there with a smile still streaked across its horrible face.
Walter bent down and picked up the drenched shovel. Blood still poured from his close call on his chin. He turned to the alleyway which now teamed with people from the town. He looked behind him. There was a stormdrain open leading under the building next to him.
He looked back at the crowd. One of them stepped foreward to speak.
"We arent going to hurt you, we know your sick, we want to help you. Come with us."
They were still holding pitchforks.
They were still wanting to kill him.
Walter hesitated only for a moment, turned and ran for the drainage. More screams echoed behind him. "HES TRYING TO ESCAPE!" Their odd voices gurgling. He gripped the old rusted metal grate with both hands and dived in.
The darkness was first. It engulfed him. His sight and his mentality.
The temperature was second. Cold, ice hit him like a skinny dip in the artic ocean.
Then there was the smell. A mix of feces and stagnant, filmy piss mixed with animal rot.
The darkness receded only temporarily as he passed drainage grates located above ground while he floated down hill via the flowing shit n' piss river. He could feel the slime on the brick walls of the sewer as he bumped against them. He could feel sometimes the writhing of something in the "water" with him. He thought. But what was worse was the burning sensation he got from all his openings, natural and his injurys as the infectious wretch poured into his mouth and eyes and his wounds.
Some time later, Walter had vomited out his guts, not caring to try not to get it on his chin. He just vomited. He didnt care. He floated down stream for about an hour in that mess untill he reached the shoreline. He pulled himself out of the sewage pipe and landed in the sea below him.
It turns out he wasnt the only man to crawl thru a river of shit and come out clean on the other side.
DUR HUR.
He washed himself in the mild antiseptic of the salt water. He washed the shit out of his hair and eyes and gently cleansed his wound. What little good it would do. He took his shoes off and threw them into the sea, glaring at them like they were his circumstance personified as they sank into the waters.
He sat on the beach and fell asleep.
"Quick, we have to move!" Said a familiar voice.
Walter woke to see his wife standing in front of him. Pulling him up.
As soon as he was on his feet he was kissing her. Holding her tight.
"Dont forget me Walter." She said as she looked into his eyes. Walter was crying. He was trying to fight back the tears because he didnt want his view to be impaired not even one bit.
Walter had her in a grip that could squeeze a steal pole in two. He sat there screaming.
"I know you arent real. I know you are gone. But, would I be crazy...IF I JUST ASKED YOU FOR A LITTLE MORE TIME!"
He opened his eyes. He was face down in the sand. Clutching a bit of gravel so hard that his hands were bleeding and bruised.
He cried as his mental torment waved over him. It felt so encompassing and so close to him it was as if it were a blanket to comfort him yet it were made of needles.
He laid there crying for a few more hours until they came and got him. He didnt care anymore. He just sat there as the group huddled around him and put him on a stretcher.
As they carried him back into Innsmouth he just laid there heaving. Occasionally he would mutter a few words. "Kill me." and "do it." but mostly he kept silent. They threw him into a cold dark room with a small cot. He just laid there at the foot of the bed until the jailers came in and strapped him into some type of chair.
The leather straps hurt. But he didn't give a fuck.
They injected him with something. Walter looked down at the needle as they put it in his arm. The guard had the same look as the rest of them. Crazy teeth and an unnatural smile. He wanted to cause Walter pain and fear, but walter spit in his face and said "I hope that shit was bleach."
The lines started blurring.
"I hope it was too." was his reply.
He never heard him walk away.
This sleep was a good one. No burning building. No painful memories. Just sleep. He woke up and his mouth was dry and tacky feeling. His wounds were all healed and bandaged. It seems he had been out for a while. It was daytime now and his cell was apparently a hospital. He was in some kind of hospital bed.
He looked under the covers. He was nude and his clothes were nowhere to be seen.
Footsteps were heard outside the room.
