HHey,
I wrote a few stories and sent them into the story team to see what they thought. I've decided to post one (A Victorian Gothic piece) here and I hope you guys enjoy...
Title: A Study in the Unknown
By: Matthew Maddocks
When I had stepped out of the breach I must admit I had expected something a little more grandiose. When you’ve lived on Earth your entire life you hear stories about this place. Strange stories about the magic, the wonder, the danger of Malifaux but looking at it from here it looked for the most part like an ordinary city. There were rows on rows of wooden and stone buildings going off into the distance. Steam and soot hanging heavy in the air as people of all shapes and sizes moved about their daily activities. If it was not for the large areas of the city that were sealed off it would look like any other city earthside. Of course it was a bit dirtier, a bit more rundown and there were still some of the strange runes dotting some buildings but all in all it had been much akin to most other cities I had seen in my lifetime and I was rather disappointed to be perfectly honest.
Still I was not here for sightseeing no I was here to meet my good friend and long time pen pal a Professor James R Willington. We had met when we were both Professors at the University of London. I had specialized in linguistics and ancient languages and he taught archaeology. While he had been teaching at the university he became an enthusiast in all matters of the occult, a topic which I had more than a passing interest in. The moment an opportunity to pass through the breach had come up he had rushed through with the greatest of haste and excitement. While he had invited me along on what he had promised to be an adventure in search of lost knowledge and wonders I must admit that I had declined most vehemently. I was less inclined to flights of fancy in those days and only in my older years had I acquired that robust interest in adventure that most experience in their younger years.
That brings me to the reason for my arrival here on this day. Eleven years after his original departure I received a most interesting letter from a Professor Willington. It seemed that the Professor had spent a number of years exploring the lands outside of Malifaux and unbeknownst to the Guild the sealed of districts of Malifaux. He had managed to acquire a most interesting collection of artifacts that he studied in his free time and had often written to me about the more fascinating details of his research. While he personally refused to dabble in the magical arts he had become quite adept at studying them and as such had made a few very interesting discoveries that I must admit had piqued my interest enough to consider a visit here. However his most recent letter spoke of an artifact that had had gone beyond mere curiosity and fascination to ground breaking discovery.
In the letter he spoke of a relatively small carving no larger than a man’s head. He had sent along pictures and it had been a most grotesque statue. There was a cylindrical base to the statue and standing upon it was what looked like a man of some kind but diminutive, degenerate. Or at least one would think it was a man if they could not see the two bat wings sprouting forth from its back and a tail ending in a cruel point protruding from just above its posterior. This imp, as I would like to call it, was kneeling down his back arched forward as if he was trying to hide something. His arms and clawed hands were held tight around his chest clutching some sort of gem to his breast. Of course there was no color in the photo so one could not see what sort of gem he held but judging by his posture, and the face, oh god that ugly face, one could imagine that the gem was important to him.
To describe the face in a word would be repulsive, but that would not cover the magnitude to which it disturbed me. It was horrible; looking burnt and covered with a disturbing assortment of hideous scars. It had beady little eyes that were sunken into its skull and its eyes were carved into a contemptuous glare that seemed to stare into anyone who met its gaze. The mouth followed suit possessing an unpleasant form. The creature’s jaw was wide open showing a row of jagged, pointed teeth and it seemed to be screaming at some unknown assailant. One can only assume by its posture and demeanor that it screamed at something attempting to take away the jewel which is prized so heavily.
Mentally shuddering at the thought of the horrid creature I decided to return to my business. I had to find Professor Willington’s house and I hoped the directions he had sent along with his letter were accurate. He had stated that business of some variety would be keeping him busy at the time of my arrival and thus I had to find my own way to his abode. So picking up my luggage and the map he had scrawled on the backside of the letter I preceded to his house with the greatest of haste.
I had arrived at his house at approximately three in the afternoon after taking a bit longer than I had hoped to find his home. The directions he had given while mostly accurate did have a few rather glaring errors that forced me to wander and question the local population as to the location of his house. It was not until I mentioned his job as an antiquarian that I finally got some help from the people as it was apparently the case that he ran his store out of his house and most people knew it as his store rather than as his dwelling. Not telling me this was something that I would have to take up with him at some point in the near future.
As I approached the glass door I took a look inside the shop which I must admit looked like a respectable place of business. There was nothing of particular note or unusual nature. It was a well kept store of a rather small size filled with all sorts of old knick knacks and antiques from both this and the other side of the breach. At the far end there was a stairwell, presumably leading up to his place of dwelling and to the far right there was an oak desk and cash register where he did his transactions. Behind the desk sat Professor Willington much as I remembered him.
He was a short man and somewhat pudgy. While he was neither too short nor too fat he had a bearing that befit a man of academia. His brown hair was cut short and starting to show grey. His eyes, more sunken than I remember were the darkest brown and were partially obscured by his gold rimmed spectacles. He dressed in a white dress shirt, brown pants and was wearing a brown plaid vest. He was all the image of a good and quite ordinary intellectual though I knew this not to be the case. But his skin, my his skin. It had turned rather pale since I last saw him and was covered in a thin layer of sweat. It was a most unnerving sight for he had not spoken of illness or poor health yet he looked so much the image of sickness.
The moment I walked in the door I was treated to the sound of a bell alerting Professor Willington to my presence. He jumped from his seat behind the desk and quickly ran over to greet me. He seemed far more energetic than I remember and he approached me with the greatest of exuberance shaking my hand and sending my way a flurry of questions as to the quality of my trip and my thoughts on the city. We exchanged pleasantries and vague kindnesses of the sort that strangers or friends who have met again after a long time apart often do. It was not long before the shallow pleasantries were left behind and we began to talk more seriously.
“Come, come. I’ll close up shop and we can discuss why I brought you here.” As he said this he gestured towards the stairs at the back of the room. I nodded and he quickly closed up and we traveled up to his study to discuss the matter of our mutual interest.
As I ascended the stairs I took a look around at the study. It was a room made of mostly hardwood though its floor was covered by a large red and gold carpet. At its center the room contained two chairs of the finest quality and a table in between them. The left and right side of the room had doors most likely leading to rooms like the kitchen and the bedrooms. The rest of the room was covered in bookshelves and indeed in books. Books were scattered all over the table, the floor and even the chairs. Sheets of papers also covered all parts of the room and it was a sight of quite some disarray. One could only assume that the professors work on the statue had been most, engaging. This was confirmed by the object of his attention being on the center of the table.
There it was on the table that disgusting statue. I could not keep my eyes on it for it was far more disturbing in person. The picture the professor had sent me had not done the thing justice as in person its hideous details seemed magnified greatly and indeed it looked almost alive. Of course it was merely carved of some grey stone, granite or some other sort but something about its posture and the quality of the carving gave one the impression of it possessing life. It was most disconcerting.
The professor didn’t seem to notice my revulsion and merely went to work cleaning off both the chairs before sitting down and beckoning for me to join him. I did and we began to discuss the nature of the statue.
“Now my dear friend you may wonder why I requested you come here to view this ugly little character,” he said while picking it up and turning it over in his hand. “But I assure you there is something very different about this statue. Take a look at this.” He turned the statue so that its base was facing me and handed it over to me.
I looked closely and saw a number of strange markings that seemed to be arranged in some sort of logical pattern. I must admit if I didn’t know better I would think it was some form of writing “A written language?”
The Professor nodded. “Neverborn to be precise.”
I looked at him in surprise and then down at the markings. “Are you certain? There has been no evidence of the neverborn possessing written language.”
“Oh I’m quite certain. Which is where you come in. Your knowledge in linguistics and ancient languages would be invaluable in translating this. Think about it. This could be one of the biggest breakthroughs of the century. Think, think about what we can do.” He was beginning to stammer as he talked faster and louder filled with excitement at the prospect of what this discovery may entail. I must admit there was something strange in his voice and I for a moment feared for the sanity of my good friend. However he had always been of the excitable sort so I merely dismissed those thoughts and decided to focus on the topic at hand.
“Have you made any progress in translating the text?”
“No. I’ve done some work on the syntax but unfortunately I haven not had much success. I don not possess the raw knowledge and experience you do in this field. Unfortunately I fear that this language may be so foreign to our human languages that translation may not be possible.” Sighing, the Professor continued. “However I do maintain hope that you’re greater experience in these regards may prove the boon I need in order to solve this mystery.” As he finished that sentence the Professor reached into his pocket and pulled out a small bottle. Opening it he took out two pills and in quick motion put them in his mouth and swallowed.
Fearing for the health of my associate and long time friend I had to ask about his health. I was quite worried but he dismissed my worries stating he had merely been having trouble sleeping. Stress and excitement he said and I must admit that knowing his predispositions it was quite possible. He had often had trouble sleeping when we worked together usually when he had gotten his hand on some new intellectual curiosity. He was a man of boundless academic obsession and while I did worry for him it was a most beneficial trait in many cases allowing him to get staggering amounts of work done in a short amount of time. Dismissing my worries we continued to talk well into the night about the statue and indeed how to best approach the problem…
On the third day of our studies I had taken a quick break to go and get some tea. We had run out and I must admit I had not been sleeping well due to poor dreams and had felt that a cup of tea might be just the right thing to revitalize my senses. Maybe it would give me that jolt of energy I needed to figure out this mystery because I must admit I had little success in my efforts so far.
I could tell that the Professor was indeed correct and that it was a language. The problem was that beyond knowing it was a language I could not figure out where to start. It seemed to follow no patterns or logic that I had seen in any other language. It did not appear to have an alphabet, it was not pictorial either. The language was a series of strokes of different lengths and widths intersected by other strokes of varying lengths and widths. My only theory had been that each stroke was a representation of a word or concept and that each other stroke modified the meaning of the original stroke. This would make translating the language extremely difficult as if one was to even understand what the base stroke meant the other strokes in the same character could completely change the meaning of the word. While a single stroke could mean person, a wide left to right stroke intersecting the first stroke could mean army or a right to left stroke could mean family. This of course was assuming that my theory was correct which was dubious at best.
Opening the door I moved into the store carrying a big pouch of assorted teas. As I stepped into the room I was caught off guard by a complete mess lying before me. Antiques lay broken and scattered all across the floor. Tables were overturned and in some cases broken. It looked as if someone had come into this building for the purpose of pure wanton destruction for none of the antiques seemed to have been stolen.
Not knowing what was going on and fearing for the safety of Professor Willington I called out for him asking if he was alright. I began looking around to see if he was unconscious or far worse dead on the floor in this room. This did not last long for soon after I heard him shout back and come running downstairs.
Shocked that he sounded alright I was shocked again when I saw him. His eyes were bloodshot, his hair ragged and greasy. His skin seemed even paler than before and he was sweating profusely. He looked much the image of fear and panic and with great worry I questioned him as to if he was alright to which he replied “Why are you so worried, nothing is the matter.” I inquired as to his health again but he merely dismissed me as being far too worrisome.
His dismissive attitude towards his own obvious health problems and the lack of comment on the mess made me even more confused and worried. “But what of your shop? How did this come to pass?” As I said this I swept my right arm in a wide arc.
Then the professor laughed. A nervous laugh a laugh that no one would ever believe was filled with any mirth or humor or even the desire to be casually dismissive. “Oh this mess? Rats. There were a number of rats in the shop and I pursued them with a tad to much zeal. You know how much rats bother me.”
I tried to peruse the matter more for quite honestly I did worry greatly about him however all he did was rebuke my attempts with statements of rats and comments about my predisposition towards worrying. Dropping the matter we cleaned up and returned to work but I must admit I didn’t stop thinking about that. Rats certainly did not explain his terrible physical state and the severe damage to the shop because I am quite certain that he had never been afraid of rats…
I awoke to the sound of a man screaming and I quickly grabbed the lantern next to my bed and lit it. I then ran with the greatest of haste towards the Professors bedroom. When I had reached his bedroom I flung the door open and ran into the room.
Once I was inside I saw the professor sitting up in his bed. He was covered in sweat and shaking somewhat violently. He had both of his hand clasped over his face and was mumbling something inaudible. I slowly moved towards him and he did not move. I stood over him for a few moments but still he did not move. Finally I put my free hand on his shoulder and that seemed to break his trance. He quickly shot up and looked over to me. My god was his face was so very sunken and pale. He looked like as if death itself had come for him.
“Professor Willington, James. What’s wrong?”
He just stared at me for a moment, for a dozen. His eyes showed unremitting terror. “Nothing is the matter old friend. Just a dream, a dream.” His voice was uneven and strained.
Of course I didn’t believe him and thus pursued deeper. “A dream? My god James you’re shaking and you look terribly ill. Tell me what is the matter.”
He had managed to get his shaking under control and reached over to his night stand where his bottle of pills and a glass of water rested. Taking a few more pills and downing them with the water he continued. “I promise you in this regard I am being completely honest. I said I had been having trouble sleeping well it has been due to bad dreams. I’ve just been stressed and working too hard as of late. Once we get this translation done I’ll be able to relax.”
On this I believe him. He sounded sincere and considering his current state it made sense. And perhaps the incident in the shop had been just rats and he had overreacted in his sleep deprived state. It did all fit together. But something nagged at me and I had to ask. “What was the dream about?”
The Professor looked down for a moment and then back up at me. “It’s nothing really…”
“Professor.” I said in a harsh voice cutting him off.
He sighed. “If you must know I dreamt about the statue. I dreamt about that little creature being real and screaming things at me that I could not understand but its rage was undeniable.” He continued on describing it in vivid detail. He described the sound, the look of the imp and the face, that hideous face. Once he had finished his tale he laughed nervously. “Honestly it’s just the stress. I’ve been working on that statue for weeks and coupled with my lack of sleep its put me a bit on edge. We just need to work hard and get it done and then finally I’ll get some sleep.”
Sighing I told him to try and get some sleep and we’ll work hard tomorrow on the statue. Probably in no small part to the pills he quickly dozed off and I went back to my room. I must admit I was still worried about the professor. I was worried about his health, about his lack of sleep, about his obsession with the statue and now with his dreams. For I must admit that I had been having the same dream and I feared the same thing that is happening to the professor may be happening to me.
Four days after the incident in the Professors bedroom we worked diligently and I must admit we actually made progress. My initial theory had been correct on the nature of the languages construction but surprisingly enough I had not been the one to make the discovery. The professor today had made the connections through some strange yet ultimately correct leaps of logic he had managed to get a single character translated. The character meant knowledge, to know but far more important from this point on it would be much easier as the first inroad into understanding a new language is by far the hardest.
These strange yet correct jumps in logic have greatly increased our work speed and strangely I have begun to think along similar lines. Perhaps the lack of sleep has made my mind follow similar patterns but I am beginning to believe that there is something in the dreams. The words that the imp screeches are starting to make sense now not because they are said any clearer but because I am now beginning to understand the words of his strange language. Or perhaps I am merely going crazy for I certainly feel like it.
Sadly the excitement of our discovery has been somewhat dulled by developments with the professor. For one he is now mumbling to himself when he thinks I can’t hear him. I can’t make out most of what he is saying but he is starting to sound quite mad. Once I heard a few words and he seemed to be rambling about the neverborn but what about them I do not know. I fear for his sanity and I have begun considering giving him to the care of the sanitarium but he is my friend and I do still hold out hope that he will regain his senses. Perhaps when we have finished this work he will be able to recover. I’ll wait a while before I make my decision but until that time I will redouble my efforts to finish the project.
To add to his weakening mental state his physical features are still as sunken and ghoulish as the other night and indeed I must admit my features have begun to take on a similar complexion. My skin is starting to go white and pasty and my eyes are beginning to sink. I greatly fear I will become like my compatriot and lose my sanity. Indeed I have been suffering the same insomnia, the same physical changes, even the same dreams. I would leave but I fear what may happen to my friend if I leave him alone and I must admit I too have been gripped by the same fascination with the statue as the professor. I seem not to be able to think of much else besides the statue and I fear it will continue to haunt my dreams.
Six days after the incident with the professor I to have started taking medication to help me sleep. The dreams keep on coming and I am at the mercy of that disturbing imp. Indeed I am beginning to fear that it is coming for me in my dreams and will eventually start stalking me in the real world but when I think this I discard that thought as paranoia and superstition. I cannot let it bother me for I do not wish to become as the professor.
On the topic of the professor I now feel a great deal of pity for him. He looks like a corpse with his skin a pearl white and clutching tightly to his bones. He rarely eats and spends every waking moment studying the statue which is most of the day since he only naps for fifteen minutes at a time. Now he mutters and mumbles to himself constantly without concern for my presence. I must admit he is making great progress and he says he hopes to have it finished by tonight but I still worry. Tomorrow, tomorrow I will commit him to the sanitarium. By then hopefully the translation will be finished and I can leave before I become like him. He seems to have completely lost his mind. This was no more apparent than in what he did today.
Earlier around noon while he was studying the statue and sifting through some books he suddenly started looking around with the greatest of fear. An overwhelming paranoia took hold on him and he stated talking about something watching him. I tried to calm him down stating that I was the only person here but he would not listen and insisted that some creature was watching him.
After looking around for a few moments he quickly shot up and ran to the fireplace where he grabbed a hot poker. Then with no heed for where he was or what was in his way he began to swing it in wide arcs. He struck the floor, the chairs, the table anything and everything he could in the room. I tried to calm him down but he just kept on swinging and shouting. He was shouting madness such as, “You’ll never get me! I’ll find all your secrets,” And other such insanity at an unseen assailant.
Finally after four or five minutes of ranting and rampant destruction he suddenly stopped dropping the poker to the ground. I ran over to him and grabbed him by the shoulders saying loudly with some desperation, “Are you alright? What’s wrong?”
He just stood there as I clasped his shoulders and then he leaned forward slowly and whispered into my ear. “The neverborn are after me they’re everywhere. But I’ll never let them get me…” He paused. “You’ll never let them get me, will you? You would never sell me out to them my loyal friend…”
I promised him I would never sell him out and I comforted him until he calmed down and went back to his seat. As I went to get him some tea I knew that tomorrow I would have to take him to the sanitarium. Tomorrow hopefully he’d finally get the help he needed fighting his demons.
I sighed as I lay in bed. I was trying to sleep and I was not yet willing to accept the futility of such an endeavor. By now I should have known that I can’t sleep anymore. However by tomorrow the work would be done and I would escape the fate of ending up like my poor friend, mad and soon to be confined to a sanitarium. Indeed before I went to bed he had said he was working on the last portion of the text and would be finished by the end of the night. I had enquired as to the content of the message but every time I had he had looked at me with the greatest of hostility and told me that I was not ready to see it yet. Fearing inciting another violent episode I never questioned any deeper and left him to his madness.
As I shifted myself again in an attempt to rest I heard a crashing sound and some scurrying. Fearing that the professor was having another episode I leapt to my feet, grabbed my lamp and ran as quickly as I could to the study. When I arrived I noticed that everything save the table was overturned and in far more disarray than before. What was most important though was the fact that not only was the professor missing but so were the statue and the hot poker which he had brandished as a weapon before.
Fearing doubly for my friend and for my research I started to run towards the shop. However as I passed by the table I noticed that everything had been removed from it save a single sheet of paper. Picking it up I noticed that what was written on it was the same as what was written on the bottom of the statue. However there was a full translation written below. “Know ye who read this that Aamon givith and Aamon taketh away.”
Hurrying downstairs I saw that everything was a mess again. The tables, the desk, the antiques all had been overturned. Everything in the room including the floors and walls had been subject to damage caused by what appeared to be the hot poker. The damage was much akin to what I had seen a few days ago and indeed it was more than likely that the same thing that was happening now was what happened when I was out to purchase tea. Something had to be done least the Professor does more damage to his property, himself, or even others.
I could hear the sound of him running into the streets and I quickly gave pursuit. It was far too dark to make out much but I could see the professor and indeed hear his loud running and furious panting. He was in poor shape and doubly so due to his recent insomnia. He would not be able to run for much longer and once caught I would commit him to the sanitarium.
He quickly darted into a dark alleyway and I pursued. When I turned the corner I saw that he had stopped and was facing me. A look of unrelenting terror was borne on his face and in his arms he clutched the statue. As I looked at him I swore I could feel the dread he felt and the panic that filled his heart. He really believed something was chasing him, that something wished to take his life and I pitied him so.
Slowly but surely I moved towards him. I uttered calming phrases telling him that we needed to go back to his home and that everything would be alright. He responded to this with desperation as he lifted his right arm to show the iron poker he held in his hands. He brandished it as a weapon swinging wildly and screaming for me to stay away. “Stay away! I have to escape before they get me. I have to get out of this city, get to somewhere where the neverborn can never follow.”
I tried to calm him down but before I could say anything he quickly fell face first to the ground and then began to move into the shadows as though he was being pulled along the ground. He screamed and clawed at the earth saying that he’d never give it up and indeed even as he was pulled away he did not drop it. Too afraid to move or do anything I just stood there and watched. I could see almost nothing but I could hear. I could hear the screams. There was nothing as dramatic as the sound of flesh being torn or gnashing of teeth or anything to state that some monster out of mans nightmares tormented him. No the only sound was his screams which went on and on only to be followed by a grim silence and nothing more.
As I stood there in shock I knew what horrid detail I would remember and recall of this event for the rest of my life. It was not the look of madness in the Professor’s eyes or even the screams he made as he was dragged away by some creature. For while I could not see what was happening in any real detail I did see one thing that I was sure would haunt me for the rest of my days. When I looked to see the professor’s assailant I swore I could see that horrible demonic face, burnt and marked with a disturbing assortment of hideous scars.
