I do not own anything relating to the Teen Titans.
Opening the Closet Door a Crack – Chapter 15
Xxxxxxxxxx
From the Journal of Randolph Carter – Selected Passages
July 30, 2-
I'm going to assume that it's the 30th, no way to tell really. No windows, no outside communication. No internet, not even a newspaper. Just have to assume when I wake up it's a new day.
At least they brought me my clothes. Old ones were getting a bit rank. I'm getting a bit rank myself, at least from what I can tell over the fish smell that permeates everything in this town. Tried to talk to captors, convince them to at least let me out to take a shower. No answer. Never an answer. NO ONE IN THIS DAMN TOWN ANSWERS! WHAT THE HELL DO THEY WANT?
Nothing to write even. Looking at the four walls. Everything is blue-green wave. If I was prone to seasickness, I would probably be nauseous. Only light is this hurricane lamp. Along with my food, the order gives me lamp oil. Thought for a moment about using it as a weapon, but I wouldn't be able to see without it. Throwing it against the wall or door could start a fire, but I'd probably die of smoke inhalation before it would burn through.
Just have to wait.
July 31, 2-
Morning, I guess. FINALLY had someone speak to me, croaking in their weird monosyllabic voices, but at least SPEAKING. Breakfast came with my three jailers. Don't know if they are always the same, three hooded figures always look the same.
This time, a fourth, unhooded member joined them. It was the desk clerk, wearing the same cloak as everyone else, but without a hood. He spoke to me in the same hesitating, croaking voice as always, but he at least said something. Not sure I understand the question, difficult when the sentences seem abbreviated. He said, "You read". At least it seemed more like a question than a statement. I replied that yes, I do read. He nodded and the four left the room.
What on earth was that all about?
July 31, 2-
Must be later in the day. The four came back, arms loaded with books and papers. They dumped them on the table. The desk clerk pointed at the pile and said "Read". They left the room. I can't tell if this is to keep me busy or if they want something from me. Still, bored out of my mind, may as well pick this up and see if there's anything useful in their archives. It's what I came for. Don't know if I'll get out with what I learn.
July 31, 2-
WHAT A TREASURE! Most of these books and papers go back to the 1800s, to the beginning of the town, to the beginning of this cult. It will take me several days to go through them and sort them out. There's also a number of odd books, scraps of parchment with odd writing, reminds me of sections of the Necronomicon, the non-Latin areas that no one seems to be able to make out. Where did they find this?
August 1, 2-
These papers are disturbing. Since many of them seem to written by eyewitnesses, I'm assuming there's some level of truth to them. I've been avoiding the books written in a language I can't read and focusing on the papers, organizing them, reading them. Many of them concern one man, Captain Obed Marsh. He seems to be the founder of this cult, brought it back from some South Sea island. From everything I can find, he brought back some of the natives from the island, married one and many of his crew married the others. They seem to have gotten involved in the gold trade after that, but there's no mention of where it came from. There's little to no gold in all New England. Curious.
Apparently, the fish trade increased at this time too. There's some talk of rituals, sacrifices to their undersea god that keeps the fish coming. Lot of talk of about eternal life with their god. From the descriptions, doesn't seem like they are talking about life after death, but a metamorphosis in this life to join their god. Talks about the transformation and joining "The Deep Ones".
Getting tired again. Will sleep for a while and start again in the morning.
August 2, 2-
This Marsh was a monster! I've uncovered a letter written by his first mate, Matt Eliot. The contents are so revealing, I'm tempted to try to keep the letter. Since I don't think that'll work, I'll transcribe it into this journal, maybe I'll be able to rescue it.
By my hand, the Last Statement of Matthew Eliot,
Curse that devil Marsh.
I knew he wasn't no God-fearing man. Not after those voyages to that island. How any Christian man could turn his back on God and take up with those heathens is something I don't get. Bad enough he turned his back on God, but he also betrayed his crew. That cannot be forgiven.
Fool that I am, I trusted him. Spawn of Satan that he was, I stuck with him. I'm not saying that I didn't profit right by him. Me and the rest of the officers and the crew did. The gold from those heathens made us right rich. Still, better we never went there. Those heathen animals were corrupting. Corrupting us good Christians against God. Went back, time after time, 'til there were almost none left on that cursed island. Either they killed themselves, the other islands killed them, or we brought 'em back to Innsmouth.
Shouldn't have brought those unnatural beasts back. I call them beasts, least them Africans look like people. These look unnatural, blasphemous, a sin against God himself, large frogs or toads. Bad enough we brought them back, but Marsh took a couple to WIFE! Half the crew did too! Tried to tell them, tried to convince them that it was unnatural. Marsh only laughed at me. Said I should look for a better god than the one I was worshipping. Said his chillen would live forever. Said that someday their god would come and kill everyone who wasn't one of them. Told him he was talking evil talk. Laughed at me some more.
Then the regular people started to go. Don't know where, never saw them again. Talked to the preachers. Most o' them tried to keep the folk on the right and holy path. Couple took off, scared. I was scared too, but I stayed. Knew Marsh would never do nothing to me, I'm his first mate, have been for years. Stayed by his side when no one else would.
Then, found out what was happenin', people started seeing strange lights out at Devil's Reef. People started going out there and not coming back. Regular people, not these half frog folk. Rumors of killings, sacrifices to their heathen god. Should have gotten out then, didn't.
Then, last spring, Marsh came to me. Said he wanted to make one more trip down south. I told him there was nothing left. Last time we went to the island, it was empty, heathen symbols all over to get rid of the curses. Marsh told me we weren't going that far. Just down to the frozen land.
Told him no reason to go there. No gold there, no spices, no profit. Just ice. He told me that this would be the last voyage for everyone. Said there was a city down there. The islanders knew about it, but didn't have the way to get there. Only canoes. No proper clothes. Not like a hearty New England sailor. Said that the city had the location of their lost island, where their god lived.
Once Marsh mentioned their heathen god, I was ready to turn him down for the first time in my life. I had enough of heathen gods and their blasphemies. But Marsh is a sly one. Said wherever there's a city, there's treasure. God forgive me for my weakness. I said one last journey south. We got the crew together, both the good and the fallen, and set sail.
Took a bunch of weeks to get there. But we crossed the quator and made our way past Cape Horn. While at sea, Marsh told me where we were going. Smart man, no question. He knew things, knew where and how to get things out of people. Figured their lost city was at 76° 15' 113° 10'. Looking at the map, saw that was way inland, couple of hundred miles. Asked how we were supposed to get there. Marsh said to let him worry about that, I was to stay on the ship and watch it.
Fine with me, I'm a sailor. If I wanted inland, I'da been a farmer. So we set anchor near as we could get to the coordinates and Marsh and a bunch of 'his' sailors went ashore. Damn fool. Snow, ice, temperature never got above 5° whole time.
Bout two weeks later, Marsh and what's left of his party came straggling back. Lost about half of them. Nothing could kill Marsh. Came aboard cursing and swearing worsen I ever seen him. Cursing the fool islanders who don't know nothing. City's in the mountains. Could see the reflection in the clouds, but couldn't get up there. Didn't have anything for climbing these big mountains. Said they were the biggest he'd ever seen. Cursing the whole time that this was the last voyage.
Crew was in a right proper fix. Weeks at sea, and no chance of profit. No helping it, with nowhere else to go we turned around and made our way back to Innsmouth. Marsh was in a foul mood. When he wasn't in his cabin, he was stomping around the deck yelling at the crew, telling them to hurry back. Knowing now what I didn't know then, we should have taken our time.
Problems started after we got back to port. Over next few weeks, some of the crew began to disappear. These were the regular crew members, not those who had fallen in with the heathen god. Started to wonder about that. Kept watch on the rest, but slowly, each disappeared.
Went to Marsh about it, told him this was his crew, his people. He told me that he'd made his last voyage and he had his people. God almighty, but I got a chill down my back at that. How could a captain turn on his crew. Didn't think it through. Marsh did, always did. Then Jackson, one of the midshipmen, disappeared. Knew then, knew for certain. Wasn't just the crew, going after the officers. Taking them out to that reef to be butchered for that heathen god of theirs.
Nowhere to go. All the ships belong to Marsh, can't get out of town by sea. Don't know enough about the land to walk. Doesn't matter. Roads all watched. Last night they got Andrews, good man even if he was an Anglican. He was the second mate. Means my turn is next.
Well, they won't get me. Got my pistol, saved it from the ship. Too many to fight off, but still got one bullet. Will use it too. God will forgive me, I'm sure. Better in hell than sacrificed to some evil heathen god.
Blocked the door to make sure I got enough time. Want to write more. Got most of it out. God, please forgive this miserable sinner. If I'd a known, I would never have gotten in with Marsh.
Hearing voices on the stairs. That miserable flapping these frog folk make coming up stairs. Fish smell everywhere. Not much time.
Curse that devil Marsh, may he rot in hell.
The paper was old, spotted with dried blood. Assume that Eliot used his pistol. Had he gone mad? Was he really being set up for sacrifices? Like to think that this was madness. Alternatives are too awful to consider.
Even so, this pushes the origins of this cult back to the South Sea demon worship. Maybe if I can continue my researches in these papers, I can locate just which island it was. At a minimum, this ties it in with a variety of other devil worship cults. Don't know how the cult has evolved since the time of Marsh. Almost no one left in the town.
Just realized, one possible reason for the lack of graves would be if they were really sacrifices. Not going to jump to conclusions, but it is a possibility.
These people are the descendents of those mixed ancestry marriages. Don't know how much to believe regarding frog folk, but there is some degeneration in the region. How much from inbreeding and how much from what Eliot calls heathens. Obvious he has his prejudices, most people from that time did. Still it's unnerving. Especially when I can't see the heads or hands of most of the town folk.
Come to think of it, that desk clerk, the hairless, roundish head with bulbous eyes does look frog-like. Maybe there's more to this.
Tired. Lots more to read. Will resume tomorrow.
Scared, more scared than I've ever been in my life. Hope I live long enough challenge that statement.
Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
For those familiar with Lovecraft, I just sent out a HUGE flare with the location of the next arc of the story. For those who don't, you'll have to wait for another chapter or two. We've still got at least one more chapter relating to Carter's journal before we rejoin our friends. By the by, in "Shadow Over Innsmouth", Matt Eliot really is the first mate to Obed Marsh and his attitudes here are hinted at in the story.
I realize that this is another 'short' chapter. Again, just seemed like a good place to stop. If I continue, I'll have to go well beyond my usual limits. And I had a comparative mild day, beloved wife is out with her friends, so I could focus on the story.
Didn't give too many people a chance to read and review. Oh well, my own fault. On to the reviews
ForceIsStrongWithThisOne – Is the doctor alive? Time will tell.
DownwardSpiril1 – Carter's journal was in the room that he was held captive. When the Order retrieved all his belongings from the Gilman House, the journal was included. For some reason (yet to be revealed), he left it in the room when he left the headquarters of the Order.
LanaLuff – Welcome to the story. Glad you are enjoying it. I usually try to carefully plan out my stories well in advance to tie up loose ends and avoid problems. Meanwhile, I heartily recommend Lovecraft's works as mine are only a very pale imitation of the master.
Soulseekerthe13th – Hopefully, this inclusion of Matt Eliot, Marsh's first mate, makes the story even more enjoyable. I'm trying my best to keep this Lovecraftian.
Emotionalpoemgirl – We'll find out shortly why Cyborg is confused. As for Very Creepy, thank you, I did my best.
Until next time my friends, sleep well.