Kathleen McCluskey – Page 2 – Pen of the Damned

Jerry had always been drawn to the mysterious and the unknown. So when he found himself lost in the dense forest, he couldn’t help but feel the thrill of excitement. Amidst the serene embrace of nature, Jerry found tranquility in the solace of the forest. As he trudged through the underbrush, his senses heightened for hidden dangers, he came across a concealed path. It led deeper into the woods. With a casual shrug, Jerry stepped onto the path. His sense of adventure rose louder, smothering the doubts screaming in his mind.

Jerry followed the path and emerged into a small clearing. His laid eyes upon a village unlike any he had ever seen. The buildings were quaint yet eerie, their windows dark and devoid of life. What struck him the most was the absence of sound. No birds, no bugs, not even the rustling of leaves. It was an oppressive silence that hung like a wet blanket in the air.

Intrigued, Jerry cautiously made his way into the village. His footsteps echoed loudly on the cobblestone street. The few villagers he encountered glanced at him with wary eyes before averting their gaze. Their faces displayed a silent concern for the outsider that had stumbled into their silent domain. Jerry observed with curiosity as the villagers communicated through intricate gestures. Their hands weaving a silent tapestry of meaning in the air. A shared language born of necessity. They exchanged knowing glances as they looked at hastily scrawled notes passed between them. They refused to speak a single word.

As night fell, Jerry’s unease only deepened. The silence seemed to intensify, pressing down on him like a weight. As his nerves began to frazzle, he sought refuge in a small inn. A grizzled innkeeper offered him a room for the night. As he led him to his room, their eyes met in a moment of silent understanding. The unspoken tension hung heavy in the air. The absence of words between them spoke volumes, the oppressive silence wrapped around them like a spider’s web.

Alone in his room, Jerry couldn’t shake the feeling that something was terribly wrong with the village. He tossed and turned in his bed. Unable to sleep, he began to pace the floor. He paused. He thought he heard a faint scratching sound coming from beneath the floorboards.

His curiosity piqued, he tore up the loose floorboards revealing an open, hidden trap door leading down into the darkness. Jerry leaned on the hanging door, its ancient hinges gave a grumbled whine. The stairs descending into the blackened void were weathered and worn. Jerry retrieved the flashlight from the night table. He illuminated the shadowy corridor, and he stepped down. The ancient stone steps creaked softly with each cautious footfall. His flashlight caused the shadows to dance across the dusty walls creating eerie phantoms that beckoned him to venture deeper. As he dared to go further into the underground tunnels, Jerry discovered ancient runes etched into the walls, their meanings lost to time. He gently caressed the outlines. He began to sweat as adrenaline coursed through his body. He was unnerved by the sudden rush of anxiety. However, it was more the sense of dread hanging in the air that chilled him to the bone.

Jerry explored the tunnels. Deep within, the air grew stale as a warm silent breeze wafted over him. He stumbled upon a chamber unlike any he had seen. A vast cavern with a gaping chasm in the center. In the dim light of his flashlight, Jerry beheld a grotesque sight. It was a writhing mass of tentacles coiling and undulating in the blackness. The slimy appendages reached out hungrily towards him. Glowing eyes peered out from amidst the squirming mass, their malevolent gaze fixated on Jerry. The creature seemed to pulse with an otherworldly energy. Its form shifting and contorting in a nightmarish dance as if to defy reality itself.

As Jerry stood on the precipice of the chasm, a chilling realization washed over him like a wave of icy dread. In that moment, he realized that the absence of sound was not just an eerie aspect of the village but a haunting reminder of the looming threat lurking beneath. He realized that it wasn’t merely a choice but a necessity born from the need to keep the creature at bay. As he faced the creature, its own silence seemed to scream louder than any sound he had ever heard. It was a deafening void that echoed with the weight of centuries, old fear and desperation.The villagers were bound by an ancient pact to keep the creature below at constant rest. For even the slightest sound would awaken it from its slumber.

But it was too late, Jerry’s presence had disturbed the being, and now it hungered for sound. As it surged towards him, he scrambled for freedom. He realized that sound was both his enemy and his salvation.

Jerry’s heart pounded in his chest as he stumbled backward. His mind raced with primal panic. Before he could react, the creature’s slimy tentacles shot out at lightning speed, wrapping around his limbs and pulling him closer with an inexorable force. Despite his terror, Jerry’s throat constricted in fear. It rendered him speechless as he struggled against the creature’s grasp. His scream was trapped inside of him like a caged beast yearning to be free.

With the creature’s tentacles tightening around him like a vice, Jerry’s fear reached its breaking point. In a burst of desperation, he unleashed a deafening scream that echoed through the cavernous chamber.

As Jerry’s scream tore through the silence, the creature recoiled, lifting Jerry higher into the air. It howled as its form contorted and twisted as if assaulted by an unseen force. With a guttural roar, it released its grip on Jerry who was tossed onto the floor. He watched, gasping for breath. As if in response to the creature’s rising, the very ground beneath them began to rumble. The walls of the cavern began to groan and crack under the strain.

The ground under the village started to split apart, fissures snaked their way through the cobblestone streets. With an explosion of dirt and rubble, the creature burst forth from the ground with an ear splitting roar. Its massive form towering over the village like a wrathful titan. Homes crumbled in its wake, reduced to splinters and dust as the villagers ran for cover. Their silent world was shattered by the unleashed fury of the being below. Its massive tentacles lashed out indiscriminately, reducing buildings to rubble. With each step, the ground trembled beneath its monstrous form.

Even as the village lay in ruins and the creature’s hunger sated, there was no sign of it returning to its peaceful slumber. Instead it continued its relentless march. Its glowing eyes fixed on the horizon with an insatiable thirst for destruction. As it disappeared into the depths of the forest, a sense of dread fell over Jerry and the villagers. They knew that the true horror had only just begun.

∼ Kathleen McCluskey

For centuries, the mummy of Pharaoh Abuhanten lay undisturbed in its sarcophagus. His discovery heralded a new era of affection for the ancient land of Egypt. Now it was placed with loving care within the Cairo museum. Unbeknownst to the modern world, the positioning of celestial bodies in the summer sky signaled a great cosmic event. Particularly a rare alignment of planets, that would have a profound effect on the ancient Egyptian magic that bound the pharaoh to his slumber. As the planets gradually moved into alignment, the gravitational pull exerted an unseen force on the artifacts in the museum. In the heart of the exhibit hall, the Pharaoh’s sarcophagus stood as the focal point. He was encircled by an array of his ancient treasures and belongings. His tomb was filled with untold riches, unimaginable wealth and all the splendor of ancient royalty. Now it was all neatly cataloged and placed within glass cases. Positioned with solemn reverence the imposing figure of Pharaoh Abuhanten’s sarcophagus served as a silent sentinel guarding the remnants of a bygone era.

As the planets continually moved into alignment, their gravitational forces exerted an unseen pressure on the antiquities. The plexiglass in the skylights experienced a slight vibration as some artifacts began to emit a soft hum. The energies of the cosmos, mingling with the residual magic of the ancient rites and rituals, began to stir the dormant spirit of the pharaoh. With each passing moment, the alignment intensified, creating a pulsing energy. The humming became a soft purr while the smell of ozone wafted through the museum. As the planets reached their precise alignment, a powerful surge of magic swept through the sarcophagus, breaking the centuries old enchantment that bound him to his eternal rest.

Pharaoh Abuhanten’s eyes sprang open as a wave of ancient knowledge came flooding back into his consciousness. Through the hazy fog of centuries past, a profound sense of urgency gripped his heart. He remembered the prophecy, whispered by the ancient priests of his court. It foretold a time that he would awaken and reclaim his kingdom. But this awakening came with a strict stipulation, a narrow window of opportunity. The sacred texts contained the incantations to summon his loyal warriors from the depths of the afterlife. Once his royal guard was resurrected, the Pharaoh would be unstoppable. He would be immortal. Yet, its whereabouts had been lost to time, buried beneath forgotten history. Now with only a few hours granted to him by the cosmos, Pharaoh Abuhanten knew that every passing moment brought him closer to oblivion. He had to act quickly to find the spell. For once the alignment shifted the veil between worlds would thicken and he would be consumed by darkness once more.

With determination coursing through his resurrected veins, his first directive was clear. He needed to arm himself. Guided by instinct, he navigated the labyrinth of corridors in the museum. He could feel his armor pulling him toward it, like a lover beckoning him. His gaze was fixed upon the ancient artifacts that once adorned his personal palace and tomb. Amidst the shadowed alcoves and dimly lit displays, he spotted the glint of polished metal. The very thing he had been searching for; his ceremonial armor and his beloved sword. These were symbols of his sovereignty in life and his prowess in death. Closing his hand around the hilt of his sword, he felt the familiar weight of power and authority. Sand and dust fell out of his mouth as a dry, cracked smile crept across his face. He smashed his hand through the glass case containing his prize. He began to put on his armor, memories of comrades past came fooding into his mind. Now with each piece in place, and his sword by his side, Pharaoh Abuhanten stood tall as he looked at his reflection in another display case. He gently placed his hand on the glass of the case, it housed his wife’s ceremonial armor. He bowed his head remembering her in life. Her striking green eyes filled his psyche and memories of her voice filled his head. He knew that he would resurrect his love once he found the book. Not only was she a fair and just ruler by his side but she was also a fierce warrior that had fought beside her husband during conquering raids. He needed her.

With a deft flick of his sword, Pharoah Abuhanten traced intricate hieroglyphs upon the museum floor. Deep gouges in the marble channeled the ancient magic that flowed through his veins. The symbols shimmered, forming a mystical sigil that pulsed with otherworldly energy. The light was a guide to the redemption that he sought. Following the illuminated path before him, he moved with purpose. His footsteps echoed through the abandoned museum. Each twist and turn of the hallways brought him closer to the room that housed the coveted book. It was the key to his resurrection, his reign and his destiny.

At last he reached the inner sanctum, a chamber veiled in shadows and ancient secrets. With a solemn reverence, the pharaoh approached the ornate pedestal on which the book rested. Its pages were bound in ancient leather and inscribed in gold. Its antiquated sheets were brittle yet filled with wisdom lost to the ages. He opened the book, a chorus of voices sang out and echoed through the museum. The words on the pages seemed to come alive and whisper to him. The air crackled and sparked with forbidden energy as Abuhanten read from the pages aloud. Lightning lashed the cloudless sky as static electricity buzzed through the air. The very fabric of reality was bending at his will. Energy waves pulsed out from him. Through the power of the spell that was written within the ancient pages, he would raise his army from the depths of the underworld. It would secure his domain over the mortal realm.

With the spell uttered and the ritual complete, Pharoah Abuhanten felt the rush of power begin to course through his veins. It would bind him to the mortal plane where he would rule for eternity. As the spell echoed through the silent hallways and faded into the darkness, the museum trembled and buckled with the awakening of his loyal guard. Large pieces of marble fell to the floor smashing into display cases, pieces of history went sprawling across the floor. The Pharaoh let out a guttural, primal scream that caused the remaining glass display cases to shatter. His royal guard was now fully resurrected. They were all faithful and ready to march at his command, helping to fulfill his destiny as the immortal ruler of the land.

∼ Kathleen McCluskey