The Sunken City
Chapter 1
The place of Ry'lea, where dead Cthulhu sleeps. Each night, my dreams are possessed by him. I see him, monstrous, mocking me. He hides in a cave, surrounded by his followers. Each of them wants me dead. No matter where I turn, they are there. I can't sleep anymore. These nightmares make me dwell on them all day. Late into the night, and the morning after, I'm thinking of this sea dragon. Whoever he is, he hates me. Cthulhu sees me as a pawn. He toys with me, and no God will save me.
My bed feels like a prison. I dread laying down. These dreams have led me to seek the truth. I read each night, engrossed in long dead literature. Cthulhu is fictional, yet real in my dreams. My career has been impacted by him. I can't stop thinking about him. One night, the phone rang. I answered the call. "Hello?" Then, a deep voice replied, "Are you Henry George?" Who was this? "Yes, and you are?" After a slight pause, and he answered, a low whisper, "I...I need to see you. Right away. I'll be over soon." It was not but thirty minutes later there was a knock on my office door. I opened it, slowly, and saw a thin, aging man, with brown hair and hazel eyes. He smiled, his lines faded, and asked, "May I come in? It is important." I let him in, and cleared off my highly unused client chair. He sat, and quickly drew a cigarette and lit it. He puffed, and said, "I need to hire you." I was puzzled. I hadn't worked in months. I asked, "Why? Why would you want me?" He laughed, coughing, and said, "You're cheap. I want you to investigate the death of a young musician. She's a violinist. They said it wasn't murder....but....I don't know." I asked, interested, "Who was the musician?" He sighed, and put a hand to his head. "She's a promising woman named Cindy Cartwell. You can find her house at Innsmouth. She vanished and hasn't returned. I think she's...I don't know. Dead, really. My granddaughter." The case had taken on a sudden personal feel. I answered, tired, but willing, "I'll do it. I'll go to Innsmouth." He smiled, a slight expression of hope shining on his wrinkled face. He put his cigarette out in my ashtray, and left, saying, "I knew you would. Please make haste...and....thank you."
My anxiety had only increased. The prospect of adventure made it impossible to even think about sleeping. I wonder when the next ship would depart for Innsmouth. I left my office quickly, grabbing only my coat and revolver. Outside my office, a fog obscured the quiet night. As I passed the beggars, their constant hostility glared at me. I hurried along, wasting little time getting to the pier. Here lied lone ship captain rested on his ship, becoming vigilant of me. He approached, asking, in a gruff, direct voice, "How can I help you?" His was of course empty, as all men treat me. I asked, trying hard to be polite, "Are you by chance going to Innsmouth?" His beard and grizzled face didn't hide what he was thinking. "If the price is right....tis not a good place." My inquisitive nature took over. "Why? I've not been there." He laughed, a sinister roar. "You don't want to, but I'll take you there."
Near the end of our voice the well-aged ship captain, the Scarlet's sole crew member, made a confession. "Innsmouth is cursed. Satan haunts the island. They say people fornicated with demons." The boat arrived at Innsmouth modest bay, and the captain anxiously urged me, "Be careful. This town is not your friends. You're used to it, aye?" He had noticed my holstered revolver. He seemed shocked I had one, obviously not realizing I am a detective.
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