The Sunken City Chapter 1 Part 4
The path led us to a large open cave filled with ornate symbols and people wearing dark robes. Each one wore a sacrificial dagger on their waist. Ben, being overzealous as always, charged forward. The hooded figures inevitably discovered us and Ben drew his gun and fired. The bullets did not stop any of the cultists, as they chanted and bore holes without blood from his shots. One unsheathed his dagger, instantly killed Ben, and I felt a knock on my skull, and went unconscious.
When I gained consciousness I was in a dark room. I struggled to stand up, and drew my lighter and lit it. Realizing they had taken my gun, I knew I was endangered. I tried the door to the small shack, noticing it was unlocked. I slowly entered a deeper section of the cave, which had bonfires and sacrificial circles spread throughout. Not one of the cultist was guarding the immediate area. As I approached a pentagram etched into the rocks I heard a nearly silent voice in my mind, "Ph'nglui mglw'nafh Cthulhu R'lyeh wgah'nagl fhtagn." This language was unlike any I have heard, but the whisper in my head was still discernible as human. This only led me to believe the cultists were close. As I examined the altar, a bright flash of red light entered my eyes, and a red glowing portal opened. Inside, I could see a city built in a dark cave. I stepped in, the lure of the place too strong to resist.
An exspansive city built into the rocks laid before me. Several people in tatters squatted on the ground, not twenty feet away. Their eyes glowed blue as they gazed at me, and one, a male with ashen hair, shouted, "Be away with you, beast!" Each quickly rose from the ground, with several of the group casting stones at me. I ran, going deeper into the city. Several buildings dotted the floor of the cave, and I dared to venture inside one that could be some sort of gathering place. People lined the room, sitting in short wooden stools and guzzling booze from tankards. All locked their eyes on me, but did not seek to directly interfere with me. Miraculously, one face remained recognizable in the mass, the woman thief from before. When I approached her, a scowl for the first time did not enter her countenance. The torchlight nearby made her eyes sparkle, and she asked, in a hushed volume, "Why are you here?" I sighed, a smile forming on me. I answered, equally quiet, "I could ask you the same thing." She got up from the ricketity stool, and pushed past several patrons attempting to block our path into a crude private parlor. Inside was Ben, still alive, the stab wound from before no longer on his uniform. He too had lost his gun. He joined us, and the three of us pushed past several patrons who had tried to block our passage through the backdoor. When we had entered what appeared to be an alley, with bottles and half-consumed meat lining the floor, I asked, more confused than I had ever been, "How are you alive?" Ben stared at me, and answered, "What do you mean, George? One could ask why does Innsmouth look so different?" It couldn't be. This isn't Innsmouth, is it? A sudden understanding came to my mind, as if it was forced by an external force. These are not the same people I had encountered before. These are instead alternative versions of them in a different universe. They recognized me because I had recently traveled to the over world's Innsmouth. Both their modern day and altered couterparts acknowledged my familiarity. The alternative Ben asked me, "Are we going to keep looking for Cynthia?" This dimension's Cynthia was obviously Cindy. I now knew the truth. Cindy Cartwright had not died but instead vanished to this Sunken City.
Comments
Post a Comment