Laurelhearst Monster
While I am busily working on my next productions, I am posting a couple more of my stories inspired by the works of H. P. Lovecraft.
This first one is set in my hometown (kind of). I hope you enjoy it.
The Laurelhurst Monster
By David John Reichen
Little has been mentioned of the sudden and mysterious disappearance and subsequent return of the ducks from the pond at Laurelhurst Park. I only mention this here as a precaution, a warning, to those who dare to look below the surface and gaze at what hides therein.
The park and its pond are located in picturesque Boston, Oregon, on the east side of town. The pond is near 39th Ave, a busy thoroughfare that goes from the airport, that is on the banks of the Columbia River, to Milwaukee, a town that abuts Boston, and is on the East bank of the Willamette River. This is a busy road and is heavily trafficked, drivers frequently go right by the park without noticing the horror that lurks mere yards from where they pass.
The pond, of medium size, is ringed by paths which meander through the rest of the park and are wonderful for walking and other modes of recreation. Bushes and tress nestle along its banks. There is an island in the western half of the pond, which is overgrown and affords a perfect refugee for the visiting wildlife.
The disappearance of the ducks, as previously mentioned, happened in the evening, just after sundown, on a hot and muggy August night. An itinerant vagrant decided that the park would be an ideal place to pass the night away and picked one of the benches at the pond's side to eat his meal. As he was busily munching on his loaf of bread and stick of Tillamook Cheddar cheese that was given to him by one of the many charities of the fine city, he could not resist the squawking pleas of the ducks that were gathering there and threw a few crumbs their way.
If he was of stronger moral fiber, the events that followed would not have come to pass, the once peaceful pond would remain so, he would not have done the unthinkable and unforgivable thing of feeding the ducks the bread he had with him. I would like to make it clear and without a doubt that the feeding of ducks in and of itself is not a dangerous nor particularly evil thing to do and is quite pleasurable; however, what is being feed to them should be considered.
The bread this personage was eating was foul and loathsome. Unknown to the people that gave him the bread was this, the bread was a rye bread of poor quality and had gone moldy. The bread had a bad taste to it but the man continued to eat the bread, perhaps to spite the gathered flock. After a few more bites, however, he became weakened, mesmerized, out of his mind by the ducks staring at him, their nascent insisting quacking, imploring him to feed them. And, he did so.
There are forces in the universe, good, evil and sometimes ambivalent which toy with the fates of man. These ancient forces, only need the slightest of opportunities to temporarily break or circumvent that which holds them at bay, allowing them to wreak havoc upon the rest of the universe. One such force, once know in Ancient Egypt or was it prehistoric Nubia, is able at times to control the very minds of those who are in dream or in a crazed mental state, such as overcome by intoxicants. It was the bread that the vagrant was eating that allowed this force to gain a foothold on reality, bringing about the ensuing chaos. The bread was infested with that well known mold that produces Lysergic Diethylamide Acid. The whole gathered group, both man and crazed waterfowl, were stoned, intoxicated by LSD.
Within minutes, the placidly eating ducks had become a raving drug crazed mob of feathered beaks. They swarmed their estranged benefactor, where he sat, attacking hand, face and other miscellaneous other parts of his body until he was reduced to a bruised, bloody and soon to be a very dead corpse. The ducks, having drained all amusement value from their bread dispenser, sought other bloody pleasures and invaded into the rest of the park.
They snuck upon a couple, deep in each others embrace. Waddling, step by shuffling step, they moved closer to the bench where they were sitting. The ducks moved silently, without a sound, giving the couple no warning of the danger closing in on them, until the flock of demented beasts attacked.
I became alerted to the dangerous situation developing around me when the couple gave a startled scream as the ducks came at them with their hard blunt bludgeoning bills. I rushed over to where the couple were valiantly defending their lives. I accessed their plight and decided that I would need the help of another to rescue them. I ran, as quickly as I could, to a group of people, similarly being harassed by the ducks at the park, and convinced them to throw me their disk, that they had been using to play fetch with their dog with, to me. They gave me their disk and fled the park to safer ground, guarded by their fearless protector, that they had been playing fetch with moments ago. I took the disk and scrawled arcane symbols that I had seen in a book that I had read and tossed it into the pond and it slowly sank below the surface.
Normal people are complacent and ignorant of the truth of this world around them and never dream of what secrets lay in wait just beyond the threshold of perception or is that preconception. Old and extremely ancient things, hidden and confined for their horrendous acts perpetrated when this world was young and virtually devoid of life. They are locked away from us mortals by means unknown by modern man. Bounding and seething with hate and the desire for vengeance against the Elder Gods, who imprisoned them, they and their supporters await in regions of time and space where no one should go or think of breaching.
I, however, am no longer a normal man but a servant of the one Ancient One that they could not confine, the one whose mind can be in us all. The Egyptians of the Upper Kingdom knew of him. The one called Nyarlathotep, Messenger of the Other Gods. Being one of his, it was not a difficult matter for me to recall the correct means to pierce through the barrier imposed on the one I was freeing.
Down the disk sank, to the muddy bottom of the pond. After it had settled for a moment, it began to glow, as if it had become radioactive with energies of unknowable potentials, bridging the gap between the here & now and that other's place, freeing it from its confinement to roam the Earth once more.
(Basically, I wrote a get out of jail card for the monster that lived in the muck at the bottom of the pond so that it could come out and play for a bit. If you get my drift?)
It rose up from the pond, a seething mass of blackness, tentacled and many eyed. The thing was like what that mad Arab Al Hazrad could have come close to describing. It slithered and sloshed onto the banks of the pond and moved to where I was standing, waiting to give it instructions. I spoke to it in a long dead language that was once used in what the Ancient Chinese called Xiyu, the Chinese now call it the Xinjiang Autonomous Region, a few millennia ago and it did what I commanded it to do.
It went up the hill to aid the couple that were beginning to lose their battle for life. It reached out and grabbed the ducks in its long appendages and ate them, one by feathered one, as they squawked in indignation at having had their fun so rudely interrupted.
It is a blessing that the human species can only perceive so much before their minds turn themselves off and refuse to function until it is safe once more in the realm of reality. The couple feinted when they saw the thing that dwelt in the muck of the pond munch on its duck dinner and were therefor not witnesses as to what came later.
The other rampaging ducks took flight and left like tormented bats out of the hell that the park had become for them, as the thing attacked them as well. When the rest of the park was cleared of the ducks, silenced reigned once more and peace was restored which had so recently been broken. The thing from the muck moved to the pond, took the person responsible for the outbreak and sank back below the surface of the pond to its watery home at the bottom of the pond. Such is the price that must be paid when the gods are concerned.
Eyewitness accounts of these events have never been published in the newspapers since they are not in the business of reporting on such fantastical and unbelievable things. The police, however, took statements from those who were present and are on file for anyone who might dare to read them. You can still see posters of that one lost soul around town but he will slowly fade away into the buried past; hopefully, memories of these events will disappear.
I have only two comments to mention before this tale is finished and are as follows:
If some shabbily dressed person comes up to you and asks for some money to buy bread to feed the ducks, do him a favor and give him a few spare coins. He may be forever cursed to feed the ducks and they do not like to go hungry.
And, please, for God's sake, be aware of what you feed the ducks!
This first one is set in my hometown (kind of). I hope you enjoy it.
The Laurelhurst Monster
By David John Reichen
Little has been mentioned of the sudden and mysterious disappearance and subsequent return of the ducks from the pond at Laurelhurst Park. I only mention this here as a precaution, a warning, to those who dare to look below the surface and gaze at what hides therein.
The park and its pond are located in picturesque Boston, Oregon, on the east side of town. The pond is near 39th Ave, a busy thoroughfare that goes from the airport, that is on the banks of the Columbia River, to Milwaukee, a town that abuts Boston, and is on the East bank of the Willamette River. This is a busy road and is heavily trafficked, drivers frequently go right by the park without noticing the horror that lurks mere yards from where they pass.
The pond, of medium size, is ringed by paths which meander through the rest of the park and are wonderful for walking and other modes of recreation. Bushes and tress nestle along its banks. There is an island in the western half of the pond, which is overgrown and affords a perfect refugee for the visiting wildlife.
The disappearance of the ducks, as previously mentioned, happened in the evening, just after sundown, on a hot and muggy August night. An itinerant vagrant decided that the park would be an ideal place to pass the night away and picked one of the benches at the pond's side to eat his meal. As he was busily munching on his loaf of bread and stick of Tillamook Cheddar cheese that was given to him by one of the many charities of the fine city, he could not resist the squawking pleas of the ducks that were gathering there and threw a few crumbs their way.
If he was of stronger moral fiber, the events that followed would not have come to pass, the once peaceful pond would remain so, he would not have done the unthinkable and unforgivable thing of feeding the ducks the bread he had with him. I would like to make it clear and without a doubt that the feeding of ducks in and of itself is not a dangerous nor particularly evil thing to do and is quite pleasurable; however, what is being feed to them should be considered.
The bread this personage was eating was foul and loathsome. Unknown to the people that gave him the bread was this, the bread was a rye bread of poor quality and had gone moldy. The bread had a bad taste to it but the man continued to eat the bread, perhaps to spite the gathered flock. After a few more bites, however, he became weakened, mesmerized, out of his mind by the ducks staring at him, their nascent insisting quacking, imploring him to feed them. And, he did so.
There are forces in the universe, good, evil and sometimes ambivalent which toy with the fates of man. These ancient forces, only need the slightest of opportunities to temporarily break or circumvent that which holds them at bay, allowing them to wreak havoc upon the rest of the universe. One such force, once know in Ancient Egypt or was it prehistoric Nubia, is able at times to control the very minds of those who are in dream or in a crazed mental state, such as overcome by intoxicants. It was the bread that the vagrant was eating that allowed this force to gain a foothold on reality, bringing about the ensuing chaos. The bread was infested with that well known mold that produces Lysergic Diethylamide Acid. The whole gathered group, both man and crazed waterfowl, were stoned, intoxicated by LSD.
Within minutes, the placidly eating ducks had become a raving drug crazed mob of feathered beaks. They swarmed their estranged benefactor, where he sat, attacking hand, face and other miscellaneous other parts of his body until he was reduced to a bruised, bloody and soon to be a very dead corpse. The ducks, having drained all amusement value from their bread dispenser, sought other bloody pleasures and invaded into the rest of the park.
They snuck upon a couple, deep in each others embrace. Waddling, step by shuffling step, they moved closer to the bench where they were sitting. The ducks moved silently, without a sound, giving the couple no warning of the danger closing in on them, until the flock of demented beasts attacked.
I became alerted to the dangerous situation developing around me when the couple gave a startled scream as the ducks came at them with their hard blunt bludgeoning bills. I rushed over to where the couple were valiantly defending their lives. I accessed their plight and decided that I would need the help of another to rescue them. I ran, as quickly as I could, to a group of people, similarly being harassed by the ducks at the park, and convinced them to throw me their disk, that they had been using to play fetch with their dog with, to me. They gave me their disk and fled the park to safer ground, guarded by their fearless protector, that they had been playing fetch with moments ago. I took the disk and scrawled arcane symbols that I had seen in a book that I had read and tossed it into the pond and it slowly sank below the surface.
Normal people are complacent and ignorant of the truth of this world around them and never dream of what secrets lay in wait just beyond the threshold of perception or is that preconception. Old and extremely ancient things, hidden and confined for their horrendous acts perpetrated when this world was young and virtually devoid of life. They are locked away from us mortals by means unknown by modern man. Bounding and seething with hate and the desire for vengeance against the Elder Gods, who imprisoned them, they and their supporters await in regions of time and space where no one should go or think of breaching.
I, however, am no longer a normal man but a servant of the one Ancient One that they could not confine, the one whose mind can be in us all. The Egyptians of the Upper Kingdom knew of him. The one called Nyarlathotep, Messenger of the Other Gods. Being one of his, it was not a difficult matter for me to recall the correct means to pierce through the barrier imposed on the one I was freeing.
Down the disk sank, to the muddy bottom of the pond. After it had settled for a moment, it began to glow, as if it had become radioactive with energies of unknowable potentials, bridging the gap between the here & now and that other's place, freeing it from its confinement to roam the Earth once more.
(Basically, I wrote a get out of jail card for the monster that lived in the muck at the bottom of the pond so that it could come out and play for a bit. If you get my drift?)
It rose up from the pond, a seething mass of blackness, tentacled and many eyed. The thing was like what that mad Arab Al Hazrad could have come close to describing. It slithered and sloshed onto the banks of the pond and moved to where I was standing, waiting to give it instructions. I spoke to it in a long dead language that was once used in what the Ancient Chinese called Xiyu, the Chinese now call it the Xinjiang Autonomous Region, a few millennia ago and it did what I commanded it to do.
It went up the hill to aid the couple that were beginning to lose their battle for life. It reached out and grabbed the ducks in its long appendages and ate them, one by feathered one, as they squawked in indignation at having had their fun so rudely interrupted.
It is a blessing that the human species can only perceive so much before their minds turn themselves off and refuse to function until it is safe once more in the realm of reality. The couple feinted when they saw the thing that dwelt in the muck of the pond munch on its duck dinner and were therefor not witnesses as to what came later.
The other rampaging ducks took flight and left like tormented bats out of the hell that the park had become for them, as the thing attacked them as well. When the rest of the park was cleared of the ducks, silenced reigned once more and peace was restored which had so recently been broken. The thing from the muck moved to the pond, took the person responsible for the outbreak and sank back below the surface of the pond to its watery home at the bottom of the pond. Such is the price that must be paid when the gods are concerned.
Eyewitness accounts of these events have never been published in the newspapers since they are not in the business of reporting on such fantastical and unbelievable things. The police, however, took statements from those who were present and are on file for anyone who might dare to read them. You can still see posters of that one lost soul around town but he will slowly fade away into the buried past; hopefully, memories of these events will disappear.
I have only two comments to mention before this tale is finished and are as follows:
If some shabbily dressed person comes up to you and asks for some money to buy bread to feed the ducks, do him a favor and give him a few spare coins. He may be forever cursed to feed the ducks and they do not like to go hungry.
And, please, for God's sake, be aware of what you feed the ducks!
Labels: lovecraft fan fiction
posted by Unknown at 7:07 PM
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