Cthulhurotica (20 page)

“Can I use your phone?”

The manager blanched, said something that sounded like, “crazy, motherfucker,” and slammed the door. Jim heard him calling to his fat wife, “call the police. That crazy fucker from 2C is outside covered in blood.”

“Thank you,” shouted Jim.

Jim didn’t fight the police when they came. He answered their endless questions as best he could, showered when they told him to shower, and dressed in the bright orange coveralls they gave him. He walked to the cell they pointed out, and in each cell he passed lay another dead girl, another murdered innocent.

The light in his cell didn’t work, the nearly empty room lit only by the tiny strip of bulletproof glass in the heavy wooden door. Someone lay on the bottom bunk, a shadow whispering into the darkness. Jim crept closer, his ears straining to hear the words that sounded so much like the clicking and whistling language of the Fisheaters.

“Follow me,” said the shadow.

Your Fisheater
Stephen Stanley

Travis King
THE DREAMLANDS OF MARS

ENTRY 11,245: THE SILVER KEY

VOICE TRANSCRIPTION RECORDED: SATURNI, 7 VRIKASHA 255, 08:11:07 MTC-9 | RJD 84648.31167

FIXED LOCATION: UNITED NATIONS OFFICE, TECHOVSKÁ CITY, WEST OLYMPUS, MARS [VIEW GPS DATA]

STATUS: PUBLIC

MOOD: CURIOUS | EXPAND

I woke up this morning to find an email from the UNPA. An unexpected delivery came in for me on the courier ship
Hermes
a couple days ago; it arrived at the local postomat yesterday. It was from J. D. Heath, the executor of my parents’ estate. He’d told me months ago that there were some personal effects my parents had left me. He’d never said what, just that he’d send it to me. I’d forgotten in the three months the courier was in transit. Work’s distracted me lately.

There were a couple memory sticks, one labeled DOCUMENTS and the other MEDIA, which I’ll have to sift through in more detail later, and a few miscellaneous personal items – some old jewelry, mostly, with real jewels, not lab-created ones, that my grandmother bought before the UN banned the mining of precious gems. My parents were cremated with their wedding bands, but Mom left me her engagement ring. It was in the package too. It’s so beautiful. My parents were the perfect couple.

Other than that, all that was in the package was an old-fashioned key on a long chain. Who uses those anymore? This one was really old; its silver plating is pretty tarnished. I have no idea what it could open.

The key was wrapped in a piece of paper containing a brief note from my father:

Dearest Merilyn,

The key which I have bequeathed to you, my only child, is a family heirloom. Cherish it. It has been passed down through the family for nearly two hundred years now, since it first came into our possession through your great- great- great- great- great- grandfather, Randolph. Remember, I used to tell you the family legends about him as a child? He was an eccentric man.

The key is shrouded in legend and mystery, and is said to be an object of strange power. It’s been kept covered and locked away for the most part. You know that I lived my life as a rational man, but I would occasionally take the key from its place of storage, and as I held it in my hands, I swear I could feel some otherworldliness about it. I will admit, it frightened me.

Do with it as you please, but be careful, and keep in mind that it belongs to the Carters. Don’t give it away unless you must. As my father told me, and his told him: “This is the key to our past. Keep it close to your heart.”

With love,

Dad

I don’t know what to make of that, but unlike Dad, I’m going to take that advice literally and wear it around my neck on the chain.

CATEGORIES: FAMILY, LIFE | TAGS: PARENTS, PERSONAL NOTES, THE SILVER KEY | SHOW AUTOGENERATED LINKS

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ENTRY 11,246: LONELINESS

TYPED ENTRY PUBLISHED: SATURNI, 7 VRIKASHA 255, 14:44:27 MTC-9 | RJD 84648.59233

FIXED LOCATION: PRIVATE RESIDENCE, TECHOVSKÁ CITY, WEST OLYMPUS, MARS [VIEW GPS DATA]

STATUS: PRIVATE

MOOD: DEPRESSED | EXPAND

I can’t think straight. I’ve managed to keep busy these past few months, but now…. Everything’s starting to hit me. I’ve been here over two Martian years – four Earth years. I keep in touch with people online, but I haven’t had any physical contact with old friends and family in all that time.

I hate to say it, but I miss Jenna. Our relationship ended on a sour note, but she was a great person, and I know she cared about me in her own peculiar way. It’s the physical contact I had with her that I miss the most. Not just the sex, but the hugs, the cuddling, the kisses… god, her kisses. Except for that one night with Byron a couple months ago, I haven’t had any of that the whole time I’ve been here.

I guess, if I have to be honest, I’m just scared. Scared that a new relationship will be a repeat of the one with Jenna. Or maybe I’m scared that it won’t. Whatever. I’m scared, that much I know, and I didn’t even realize it until just now. I’m scared, sad, and alone on a vast world with only a couple million people spread out over its entire surface. That’s a terrifying thought…

Even with work and school, life here seems so empty. I wish I had someone to comfort me right now.

CATEGORIES: LIFE, RELATIONSHIPS | TAGS: JENNA | SHOW AUTOGENERATED LINKS

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ENTRY 11,247: TO DREAM LIFE ANEW

TYPED ENTRY PUBLISHED: SOLIS, 8 VRIKASHA 255, 07:03:54 MTC-9 | RJD 84649.29120

FIXED LOCATION: PRIVATE RESIDENCE, TECHOVSKÁ CITY, WEST OLYMPUS, MARS [VIEW GPS DATA]

STATUS: PRIVATE

MOOD: CONFUSED / SAD

This is going to sound crazy, but I don’t belong here. I know that now, thanks to the key. According to the clock on the wall, I slept for only three hours, but I can say with certainty that I just spent over a month – the most wonderful weeks of my life – somewhere else, in a land of dreams, and now that I’m back, this world with its technology and its sparseness seems like the dream… or a nightmare.

Where do I begin…?

I know I was on Mars, even though the constellations seemed askew, for Phobos and Deimos shone brightly in the sky, along with the blue-white sphere of Earth, and Olympus Mons rose high above the landscape. But it wasn’t the Mars I knew. It smelled of nature, not of chemicals and plastic. It was earthy, moist. It teemed with life. I could feel it throbbing in my veins. It wasn’t the vast emptiness of the Mars I had lived and worked upon for years.

It was night. I stood below Olympus, probably right around where Techovská City is in this world, but there it was on the edge of a shimmering lake. Something, I don’t know what – some bioluminescent planktonic life, perhaps – cast a soft green glow across the water’s surface; it was beautiful, and it lit up the surroundings with a diffuse light, so I could see the trees of the sparse woodland on the great lake’s shore. They were tall and wispy, like no trees I’ve ever seen before. Maybe like weeping willows, but with their branches spreading out and upward, rather than drooping down. I touched one, and the trunk was perfectly smooth, firm yet soft, and it was warm and calming. It’s like the tree understood my feelings and deliberately counteracted them as it stood there swaying in the soft, warm breeze in rhythm with my pulse.

I don’t know how long I stood there, just taking in the surroundings, enjoying the atmosphere, listening to the rhythm of fish-things jumping and splashing playfully in the water, large insects and betentacled nocturnal rodents chittering away in the night, and the screeching of a raptor soaring somewhere in the starlit sky. Time seemed to stand still as the land wrapped me in its loving embrace.

After some time had passed – moments? hours? – I noticed lights across the lake, the lights of fires dotting the shore. I stepped to the edge of the water and stood, almost hypnotized, gazing at the fires burning on the other side. As I did so, the wind whispered my name.

“Merilyn,” came a voice from behind me, deep, but soft and gentle as the breeze. I turned and lost my breath in that moment. He looked a bit like Byron – if Byron had been the creation not of sperm and egg but of the mind of a Romantic artist with a bent for alien portraiture. Tall, with eyes like starlight, strong chin, and hard muscles born of daily toil, exposed through the diaphanous knee-length tunic in which he was clad, he was beautiful. And exotic. His head was devoid of hair, and so was his face – including the ridges just above his eyes. My pulse raced – but not because I felt I was in any danger. No, I knew, somehow, that he had only the kindest intentions. It was that kindness, warmth, and beauty that set my heart pounding. I felt connected to him immediately, and through him to the entire world.

“Merilyn,” came another voice, just as soft, but pitched slightly higher. Drawing my eyes away from the enchanting man before me, I saw another figure step from the woodland. Shorter, slighter of frame. A woman. Her eyes were like the surface of the lake by which we stood, dominating her elfin face. Like her masculine counterpart, she too lacked eyebrows and hair atop her head, and she too wore a diaphanous tunic that billowed slightly in the breeze. Through it, I could see her pale skin, stretched taut over a trim form, her pert breasts reminiscent of Jenna’s. I looked at her face once more and noticed that her angular features, too, were superficially akin to my ex. I found it odd that both of them reminded me of people I was attracted to.

Together, the two spoke my name again, and their voices harmonized like the song of angels, sending chills down my spine.

“Who are you? How do you know me?” I asked.

They smiled, enigmatically, and spoke as one. “You are a part of us. You always have been and ever shall be.”

I simply stood there, saying nothing.

Sensing my confusion, the man said, “All shall be revealed in due time. For now, you are a stranger to these lands, and we welcome you.”

“It is our custom,” the woman spoke up, “to welcome those who have travelled far with the gift of hospitality.”

“Bathe with us,” said the man, “to wash away the dust of your travels.”

“Sleep with us,” said the woman, “to rest your weary legs.”

“And on the morrow, we shall feast, and you shall taste of our fruits.”

Mirroring each other’s motions, they stepped out of their sandals, and they lifted their tunics from their bodies and placed them atop a small boulder. My eyes widened at the unexpected nudity, and although I tried not to look, my eyes couldn’t help but scan their unclothed forms, which, I realized as they glimmered in the green glow of the nearby waters, were as hairless as their heads. Although possessed of inhuman eyes and alien in their lack of hair, they nevertheless resembled my own species in many respects, like classical Greek statues come to life – though to be honest, I’ve never seen a statue so well endowed as the strange man who stood before me.

It was then that my own nudity dawned on me. I had appeared in the strange world in precisely the same state I’d fallen asleep – wearing nothing but the key and chain around my neck. I flushed, but the embarrassment didn’t last long. The strangers were obviously comfortable with the naked body, and they’d shown no reaction to my state of undress.

Hand in hand, the couple walked toward the lake, and as they passed me, the woman grabbed my hand as well and led me along with them. Her skin was soft, smooth, except for some small calluses on her fingertips. A fragrance like jasmine drifted on the air around her. An electric surge raced through my body at her touch, and I gasped. I saw her smile slightly, and I walked willingly toward the water.

As my feet touched the water, I was surprised to find it warm, like the water of a bathtub rather than that of a lake outdoors. We continued on in silence until we were hip-deep.