Author's Note:
I don't own Xenoblade Chronicles and all characters belong to their rightful owners.
I've been reading a lot of H. P. Lovecraft recently and I was just so inspired by his work. I've never written in the horror genre before so this was an entirely new experience for me. I hope that it scares you just a little. It's the season for horror, I guess I'm just in the spirit of things!
About the story itself, it's in Shulk's point of view and is a bit AU. It had to be for this setup to work.
Don't worry, I'm still working on Valkyrie! So look forward to see a new chapter in the not so distant future. :)
Enjoy!
When night falls upon this world and the heavy black curtain descends upon us, we sleep. We hide away from the monsters and chilling haunts that lurk in the shadows by retreating into a comfortable place, a place we perceive as safe. This safety is an illusion, one built on ignorance, because no matter how much we build up our defenses, evils of the darkness slither in through every crack.
These horrors are rarely of a physical nature however, it is in the act of sleeping, a foolish attempt to hide from the night, that allows the horrors to enter. None can describe the sick fancies that take flight in the mind once it slips into the foul clutches of shadow. Twisted fetishes take shape and wicked desires bloom into the mares of the night.
Many startling revelations can be found in the cruel and sickeningly sweet pleasures we take in our darkest fantasies. One's waking conscious fails to realize, so many of us fail to realize, the possibility of evil lurking just below the surface, waiting patiently for sleep to take its deceptive hold.
I awoke from a state of delirium nigh a week ago. Since then sinister revelations have threatened to throw me back into the weak-minded state and I fear it will soon take me if I do not reveal all that I know.
To begin, my feverish state was caused by the abrupt death of my father and mentor, Dickson. Both the suddenness and nature of his demise shook me to the very core and unhinged my mind enough that I was confined to bed for numerous days. I can still vividly recall his body dismembered across the floor, the cuts so perfectly straight and surgically precise. I cannot reenter the room in which I found him because the memories are too strong, along with the scent of blood, still sickening, sticks to the place.
What occurred that night only returns to my mind's eye in blurred bits and pieces. I had to question my dear friend, Reyn, to fill in the many gasps. I, apparently, arrived at the Defense Force Station, blood covered and hysterical. Thank God, Reyn had been on duty that night or else none of the officers would have understood my blubbering. I conveyed the message that Dickson had been attacked and I had foolishly, almost idiotically, tried to resuscitate him, even when his body resembled that of an unfinished puzzle than a complete human being.
A group of officers returned with me to the laboratory. My late father had been the head researcher of the weapons development team and constantly worked hours after every other soul had departed. The home we shared was hardly a minute's walk from the building, so when I heard a loud cry I immediately went to investigate. Thus, I found Dickson, wallowing in his own life's blood. This morbid scene met the officers. Apparently seeing it twice overwhelmed me for I dropped, then and there, into my delirious fever. Reyn took me into his care and is the only reason I am capable of writing now.
During my pitiful state, many strange mutterings passed my lips, which, thank God, Reyn paid little to no attention. If he had, I dread to think of him sharing in this constant state of terror that keeps me up at night. However, one muttering stood out and he recalled it vividly, for I had repeated it plenty of times.
"Under the floor! Under the floor! The red monster is under the floor!"
As I screamed these words, I flailed desperately and frightfully about. After one of these fits, Reyn tried to prevent another by gently questioning me about said monster. The only clear detail he received was its teeth were blue. I shudder as I think of the true nature of that monster, so much more than a red body and blue teeth. It is a much more terrifying reality!
The Defense Force found the cause of death quite easily, but no weapon. The oddly perfect cuts, smoother and straighter than any mortal could have ever cleaved, puzzled them. In fact, the sheer obscure exactness of the wounds baffled even the medical examiner. The other perplexing factor of the murder pertained to the motive, not a soul in the entire colony wished harm upon my father. People looked up to him and revered him for his scientific discoveries. He traveled widely, however, so the Defense Force believed some foreign assailant, with sinister blade in hand, had stolen through the night to end him. So the investigation left the colony and still continues. For once I am grateful for the idiocy of the Defense Force; no one should connect the paralyzing truths I have connected, for they would never wish to sleep again!
Being Dickson's only heir, the entirety of his life's work passed to me. I required Reyn to fetch the boxes upon boxes of research notes from the laboratory, since the place made my blood run cold whenever I entered, and still does. In the midst of my father's brilliance, a seemingly out of place manuscript drew my attention. At a glance the format and the low quality of his penmanship differed from his scientific reports. For that reason, I found myself beginning to read. It started with a date about a month or so prior, and in his words, I will account:
September 5
It started a few days ago and I cannot ignore it any longer. Whenever I am working late into the night in the lab on Project X, I feel the press of eyes on my back. At first I ignored it, but as the nights continue the presence is still there, lurking. Tonight I searched the entire lab and found no source. Still, the feeling of eyes like fiery daggers digs into me and I know that whatever it is, stares at me with eyes full of malice.
Before I speak of how these words sent a chill down my spine, I had best speak about Project X. My father, as I mentioned before, was a brilliant scientist and was revered by many. He spent all his time researching weapons and developed vastly improved technologies. Even though he had a quantity of scientists and assistants, myself included, Dickson researched the most advanced and potentially dangerous arms on his own. His constant secrecy upset the team and he refused to tell even me of his findings until he had finished. Upon revealing his work we were all elated to learn of his findings and study the final product. Project X was his latest undertaking, and by his reports, completed.
To learn that during the night something watched my father as he worked on his clandestine experiment frightened me. My father was not a man easily bothered by such things, he never indulged in fantasy, and so for him to immediately question the humanness of the sender of that unbreakable gaze caused my terror. How truly evil that presence must have felt!
September 9
The heavy gaze persists and makes me hesitate to work on Project X. I continue on since no move has been made by my audience, it still watches. I finished early tonight, since I felt the gaze pressing much closer than before and I was unnerved by the intensity. I locked up the lab and started up the street towards home when I heard a door slam directly behind me, one of the heavy metal doors of the lab. Immediately, I turned and raced back. The doors were still locked tight. I circled the building and checked the few side doors, each locked. Even the cellar lock was undisturbed. My nerves shaken, I hurried home.
Upon reading this entry a sudden sense of déjà vu befell me. I waded through the sea of boxes and papers to retrieve something penned by my own hand. After collecting the journal, I returned to the manuscript to compare. Sure enough, a similar event was recorded in my diary. Around the time these mysterious events began occurring to my father, strange vision like dreams began to haunt my nights. My dream on the night of September ninth was that of my father checking the locks on the doors of the laboratory, his expression tight and nervous.
A thrill ran through me at this discovery, the mystery of my father's death could be unraveled from these pages. What did it mean that my dreams matched with the events? I needed to know, so I dove headlong into the manuscript. My curiosity got the better of me and I wish now that I could retract my own actions so that I never would have learned the truth, the awful, terrifying truth, which haunts me still!
September 13
Another short night at the lab. Project X is suffering from my growing unease. It is hard for me to stay in the lab when all the thing does is watch me. If only it would show itself than I could identify what has me so shaken. The sound of a rat in the cellar startled me so much that I dropped a beaker. I was used to hearing the sound, rodents occasionally got inside. I decided my nerves were shot and I headed for home. I left in haste and realized I had forgotten my jacket. Not one to back down, I returned to the lab to retrieve it. I was in and out quickly, then on my way once more. As I walked, a flicker of movement caught my attention. A figure moved behind the building and avoided the bright street. Thinking it was the burning gaze, I ran after it. The thing proved faster and disappeared into the shadows before I could catch it. When I finally got home, I swore I saw movement from the windows.
Again, my dream forebodingly matched the scene he described. While the burning gaze tormented Dickson, an event also baffled me. Strangely, I had awoken with dirty feet on multiple nights. It struck me as odd because I had undergone no activity in which my feet would become so dirty. I dismissed it and tidied up my linens without much fuss.
A few days later, September seventeenth, I discovered something that panicked me. Busy doing the household chores, they got neglected from my father's and my constant work schedule, I stumbled across something around the house with a sinister origin. In my alarm edged with worry, I drug Reyn from the station to take a look at my discovery. Footprints populated the area around the house and swung around back before hitting paved street and disappearing. The area below my window appeared well traversed and a thin path had been worn around the house. Reyn and I found the prints all around the windows but they were strongly centered around mine.
Me being near hysterics, Reyn tried to calm my fright. He offered to watch the house during the night, but as scared as I was, I refused, not wishing to impose. He fought the refusal stubbornly, ever concerned for my safety. I caved under his constant pestering, his persuasive ability extending from his unintelligent brashness, however I would only allow it if Dickson agreed to the night watch.
When my father saw the footprints, his face drained of all color and an expression of pure fear crossed his eyes. It passed as he quickly composed himself. Dickson politely declined Reyn's request and asked him to only keep an eye out during his usual rounds. He also requested Reyn to keep an eye on the laboratory, at the time that puzzled me. Now I understand.
September 17
This morning while on the way to put some equipment in the cellar, I stumbled upon a unique discovery. Footprints were in the dusty ground by the cellar door. I realized suddenly where the burning gaze must be originating. I entered the cellar, going down the short flight of creaky steps. The light from the lab above filtered down through the tiled floor. It was no secret the building was old and in the oppressive cellar that was very apparent. I had to crouch to maneuver through the maze of boxes. I stacked the ones I was carrying on their rightful pile, before snooping around. Nothing was out of place and not even a rat lived down there. I realized then, that it had not been the rats I had been hearing late at night, but that blasted beast with the burning gaze.
Not long after that discovery, another, more chilling revelation occurred. I was called home by a nervous Shulk to find the same set of footprints at my house as I had found by the cellar. The sinister being not only watched me work but followed me home! It even took special interest in Shulk, obvious by the many prints it left below his bedroom window. I do not want anything to happen to the boy, so I must think of a way of catching whatever hounds us.
During the light of day, I began to notice a change befalling my father. The confrontations with the burning gaze weighed upon him and slowly tore at his sanity. As we worked he often cast wary glances at the floor. Whenever I questioned it, he told some lie about rats in the cellar. He only allowed us to retrieve equipment from the cellar in pairs and forbade me altogether from entering. I viewed my father as a strong man so seeing him unravel without knowing the cause gnawed at me.
Around this time, I cracked the case of my dirty feet. My father and I rarely vacuumed and the house suffered greatly because of our neglect. I had neither desire nor time to clean, so I allowed the grime to stay. My mounting laundry would drive me to vacuum, I reasoned. If only the reason had been that simple! One mystery aside, the footprints kept steadily increasing. My rising fears silenced me and I found I could not voice my concerns to anyone.
September 23
The thing has been slowly driving me mad. The past few nights it has become much more brazen and our attitudes toward each other grow all the more violent. I noticed its eyes staring up at me from a slightly raised floor tile and instead of being discrete and trying to hide, it stared me down most brutally. I have been to war and never in all my life have I seen eyes gleaming with so much malice and malicious intent. It must have known I was on to it. In a fury, I flew over to the space and stomped heavily down upon it. It must have evaded my attack because no cry of pain came from it. For awhile its gaze was off me and I want on with my business with a lighter heart. That did not last long because the little devil raised a tile in my path and tripped me. So began our rivalry, I would attempt to stomp it and it would try to trip me.
September 26
Project X is near completion, that monster under the floor will not stop me, it managed to delay me, nothing more. Tonight, I decided to go after the thing in preparation of my final plan to end it. I discreetly left the lab, snuck around back, and into the cellar with my revolver in hand. The light from above softly illuminated the space, like it always did. Silently, I moved through the clutter. I heard the familiar rustling and jerked my sight in that direction. It had the innate ability to stay just out of my range of vision, hiding somewhere in the shadows just waiting and watching. I tried to catch the damned thing, but failed miserably. While I searched through the sea of cobwebs and cardboard, I heard the stairs creak. It fled up the stairs and out. I rushed after it, yelling enough profanities to wake the entire colony.
September 28
I will kill that blasted thing with Project X and end its burning gaze. I fear no earthly weapon can harm it; my new creation had best strike true.
As I hastily read the last few entries a deep set terror grew within me and bore the fruit of sheer panic. A horrifyingly morbid realization shocked me to the core and I sat dumbstruck in disbelief for many a minute. Then, in a flurry, I rose like a whirlwind, tore from my house and to the laboratory. The pages of my father's research lay in an unorganized mess behind me. The stench of blood hit me as soon as I entered. I raised a sleeve to my nose and mouth in an attempt to block the putrid odor. I groped for the lights along the wall. Once lit, I raced out of the building to the far side. With great zeal, I threw open the cellar door and dove into the shadowy blackness. Only the light from above trailed into the hellish space. The intense smell of blood grew stronger for it radiated from there.
Dickson's blood had dripped through the cracks between the tiles, staining the ground and boxes with crimson. I drew closer to the spot emanating the smell and gasped in horror. My sinister hunch had been correct. I reached out with trembling hands to lift the blood splattered body of the monster. My fingers curled around the red body and it barred its bright blue teeth. Project X, the Monado, my father's greatest achievement rested in my grasp. I sat numb on the dusty ground, paralyzed by the reality I found myself.
Beware your dreams; the sick fancies of the night awaken the twisted side of the mind none should ever arouse. I implore you, keep a watchful eye on the dark visions that take shape while you sleep in what you ignorant fools think is safety. No haven can save you from your inner demon. My dreams, those haunting visions, had been from such an oddly low angle and confused me to no end. Only after reading my father's point of view did I realize who was giving him such a scornful, burning gaze. I am the monster underneath the floor; I drove my father mad, before killing him with which he vowed to end my existence.