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
© Copyright Kathleen McCluskey. All Rights Reserved.
Pen of the Damned 