A STORM OVER BLOSSOMS

INTERLUDE ONE

TO LOVELY LENORE

*

"I am writing this to you, my lovely Lenore, that you might know what drove your husband to claim his own life. Do not judge me too harshly. When you have read these pages, you will understand why I can no longer continue in this life. You might even be able to forgive me, although I know I do not deserve it.

It all began a few years ago when I was caught in a storm at sea. It rose out of a clear, blue sky in a matter of seconds, and completely engulfed my boat. Needless to say, even though I managed to survive the storm by the grace of God and by the special providence that governs sailors, the effects on my ship were catastrophic. My mast snapped off in the winds, and the large part of my cargo went overboard. My compass and charts were also lost in the tempest, as was the larger part of my supplies of both fresh water and food. To add to my misery, I was blown miles off course into the middle of an ocean and had no way of navigating my way home.

After weeks of drifting aimlessly at sea, wherever the tides took me, I had lost all hope of seeing the shores of my native Rhode Island again. At that time, it seemed I had been saved from death by drowning only to die the slower, agonising one of starvation or dehydration. I knew I would use my pistol on myself and take my own life before I permitted that to happen.

With these and other grim thoughts in mind, it is no wonder that I slept fitfully that evening or that my dreams were strange. More than once in the course of the night, I fancied that I was walking in a submarine palace. I battle to recall much of its exact appearance now. The structure itself seemed to be made of white coral, and had many spires and terraces. Banners of kelp flew on its towers. Around it, there were gardens of leprous seaweed and odd, glowing rocks. As if this were not curious enough, strange, obscene creatures walked its hallways with me. They resembled men in form, yet frogs or fish in feature. They had odd, bulging eyes; flat faces with repugnant slits for noses; and only a few, pale hairs clinging to their otherwise bald heads. They spoke of a sea-change. They told me that I could be transformed, like them, and that I could join their numbers. They promised that I would live forever in the deeps, and walk with those who were ancient beyond the memory of man.

When I woke that morning in a cold sweat, I found that everything had changed while I had slept. My ship appeared to have run aground in the course of the night, not on a beach but on a rotting mass. In the one direction, a leaden ocean stretched beyond sight. The other direction was even less appealing - an endless, black plain of decay. I could make out black, slimy seaweed, as well as the carcasses of fish and of other marine animals which I could not identify. The smell of rot pervaded everything, and turned my stomach. There was no sign of any life or habitation, no sign of any threat to me, yet my main impression was one of all-pervading menace.

It was hours before I dared venture off the ship into the stinking mire. Even though the land appeared to provide little succor for the traveller in way of supplies or hospitality, I knew I could not stay where I was, for my rations were almost exhausted. Consequently, I resolved to set out for a little hillock which I saw some miles away. From there, I would be able to survey the island and hopefully find a village to which I could travel. With that plan in mind and with enough supplies for three days, I climbed off my vessel. The ground below my feet sunk slightly when I stepped onto it, but it was solid enough to bear my weight, just as it had been solid enough for that of my craft.

The smell of rot was sickening, but I had more important matters on my mind than to worry about such a trifle. I ignored it and forged westward. For an entire day and night, I travelled towards my hillock, which was much further than I had estimated from my ship. I did not dare to sleep or even to rest, fearing that I would sink into the morass or that I would be suffocated by the stink. However, the end result was that, by the time morning broke, I had arrived at my destination.

Ascending the hillock, I surveyed my surroundings. To my delight, only a few hours away from me by foot, I saw a village lying snugly in a reef. There appeared to be a lighthouse on the reef, although it seemed more like a slender monolith from this distance. Smoke rose from its chimneys, almost invisible against the grey-black sky. It was enough to give me courage and to restore my hope. Shouldering my load with a lighter heart, I was about to turn around and head for my proverbial port in a storm, when a hideous chanting suddenly seemed to rise from the sea.

I shudder to commit those obscene syllables to paper, but I have resolved to give a full account of events and must not omit what disquiets or disgusts me for fear of being thought to have invented or altered the rest by you. They were sounds no human voice could make, nor any animal about which I know. To my ear, they sounded like:

Ia! Ia! Cthulhu fhtagn! Phn'nglui mglw'nafh Chthulhu R'lyeh wgah-nagl fhtagn!

After a few minutes of that, a counterpoint of sorts arose to it:

Mene, mene, tekel, upharsin!

Even though my every instinct was telling me to flee, I found I could not. I found myself rooted to the spot, staring in horrified fascination at the ocean before me. The grey waters began to churn, and a creature began to emerge from it. The human mind's capacity to forget is astounding, for I find I can remember little of the beast's appearance. I remember a head, ovoid and elongated like that of a squid. I remember scaly tentacles, flailing the water. I remember red eyes glowing above the misty sea. Beyond that, I have no recollection of its appearance

Nor do I have any rememberance of what I did next. I think I must have gone insane at that moment for I remember nothing of the hours or days after I saw the creature. When I awoke from the shadows, I was lying in a hospital. The nurse told me that some fishermen had come across my boat drifting in the waters, that I had been delirious and had raved about an undersea god and his servants. They had brought me and my craft back to America.

I would like to pretend that it was all a phantasy, brought on by lack of sleep and food. However, I know better. I know my vision was real, and I know they are coming for me. There are times at night, when the moon is full across the harbour, that I hear them in the hallway of my boarding house. I hear the movement of a heavy, slippery body across the floor or a soft, hoarse croak outside my door. And I hear my own voice try to speak the obscene invocation of a impious god: Ia-R'lyeh! Cthulhu fhtagn! Ia! Ia!

I hope you will forgive me, Lenore, for what I am about to do. I have no other option. I can no longer resist the call of the ocean, and no longer fight that sea-change that I feel happening in my bones. I do not know what to do to save myself from it, other than to take my own life. I only know that an early death is preferable to an eternal life spent in the black deeps in the service of that creature. As you forgive me, may God forgive me too.

Your loving husband,

Captain Abel McAllister

Providence, Rhode Island

17 February, 1910 "

*

Author's Explanatory Notes:

I think this part needs some explanation, because I have a feeling a number of people will read it and wonder why I included it. To be honest, it does little or nothing to further the plot. It's basically a standalone piece, that could be removed from A Storm Over Blossoms without either story losing coherence.

I hope, however, it does further your knowledge of the Dark Ocean and of the mythos surrounding it. It is intended to give you a richer idea about Dagomon (or Dagon), his servants as well as the submarine realm of Y'ha-nthlei in which they live.

It is basically a condensing and melding of Dagon and the pertinent parts of A Shadow Over Innsmouth into one, neat story. The style and the oblique manner of telling is deliberately Lovecraftian. Which means it was quite fun, yet challenging, to write. ^.^

Language Notes:

Don't ask me precisely what the chant means. It's taken directly from Lovecraft, and I'm not a Lovecraft scholar. Phn'nglui mglw'nafh Chthulhu R'lyeh wgah-nagl fhtagn! is something like "In his house at R'leyh dead Chthulhu waits dreaming", according to The Call of Cthulhu.

Bibliography:

My conscience has gotten the better of me, because I should have done this some chapters ago, as the good, English major I am. If you're interested in the Dark Ocean, I really recommend any and all of these:

Lovecraft, H.P. "Dagon" Omnibus 2: Dagon and Other Macabre Tales. HarpersCollins: London. (1994)

Lovecraft, H.P. "The Shadow Over Innsmouth" Omnibus 3: The Haunter of the Dark and Other Tales. HarpersCollins: London. (1994)

Lovecraft, H.P. "The Call of Cthulhu" Omnibus 3: The Haunter of the Dark. HarpersCollins: London. (1994)