With strange aeons...

A poem based off the stories of H.P. Lovecraft...

This is the beginning of my writings,

My notes, my sightings, my findings…

 

Entry Number One

It has begun…

 

“That is not dead, which can eternal lie,

-and with strange aeons even death may die…”

These words shook me in such a way,

-that I dare not speak them aloud today.

It’s with a trembling hand that I even write,

-of the accursed things I saw that night.

 

When I set out on this journey,

I hired an attorney

To mark up my will and split my estate

Perhaps part of me knew it was my fate

-to never return

After all, the things I sought

-man was never meant to learn

I write this down so that in turn,

-the one who follows in my footsteps,

-will discover with great concern

That there are things in this world, things that churn

Deep in the chasms of our minds

That if we had even the slightest hint of,

-we would them leave far behind.

 

 

Entry Number Two

What I decided to do…

 

It was the fall of ’23

I’d set out from Providence to see,

-the home of my Uncle, Robert Abree

Now I would like to note,

-that while the things that my Uncle wrote

(which I’ll explain in time)

may imply, that the man had lost his mind

You have to understand,

-that the man was an avid fan

Of rational science,

he was a scholar, a thinker,

-who met all superstition with reasonable defiance

So you have to wonder what wrestled compliance

From the mind of a man against such superstition

So that he rambled on about some vision

-of cosmic horrors, and some sunken prison

Wherein was a creature of such terror,

-he made the decision

To end his life, at the end of a noose

It was from this simple fact that I had to deduce,

-what set my Uncle’s sanity, once firm, so clearly loose.

 

Entry Number Three,

The things I wish I didn’t see…

 

 

When I reached the man’s home, I was surprised to discover

That he’d been going through the research of his late brother

My own father.

In truth, in the past I’d never decided to bother,

-myself with questions on what the man did

It took me years simply to rid,

-myself of the image of the man who’d died when I’d been a kid.

So I’ll admit, I was taken by a strange excitement.

Perhaps I’d gain some enlightenment,

-on the death of both these men.

But perhaps, if I’d known then,

I wouldn’t have studied more

For what terrible things lay beyond the door

-to that sunken city.

Things in which no mortal mind should be privy.

 

The combined notes of the two brothers, now deceased,

-were of such an outlandish nature that it only increased

The frantic nature in which I poured through their work without cease

Like some monstrous beast,

-devouring the paper work like the flesh of its prey

For night and day I poured away at those notes

Until I came across a recent one that spoke,

-of a nearby town,

That some years ago was nearly burned to the ground.

 

From the writings of my uncle, the town evidently used to be full of trade

-before a few strange occurrences, and eventually a police raid.

Now this was a story worth investigating!

So, without any debating,

-I set off for the town called Innsmouth,

Which from my uncle’s house was only a few hours south.

 

The route into Innsmouth was accessible only by a bus

And since it would be a few hours before it arrived, I had time to adjust,

-to the surroundings and try and gain some insight

On why both my Uncle and father might,

-find such an unremarkable town a worthy sight.

 

From those that lived in the neighboring town I came to learn,

-that they stayed away from Innsmouth folk with such a stern,

Undying hatred, that I couldn’t help but feel the curiosity burn.

After all, what could make a town garner so much disapproval?

-That simply asking too many questions could garner a hasty removal?

I had to know,

So that by the time the bus decided to show,

-I’d worked myself into such a curious fit, I couldn’t wait to go.

 

I wish now I’d never rode that bus, that express line

-into the deepest parts of hell, and the darkest parts of the mind

But as I left the civilized world behind,

-it was human curiosity that became my crime.

 

Now, I feel the need to mention that my driver did not seem…

…normal.

In truth, if I had to describe him I would have to deem,

-him to have such a peculiar look that all formal,

Human appearance and traits,

-seemed to have made clearance from his face

Which was simply not…right.

Now, even though it was night, I had time

-on the two hour bus-ride,

-that I can firmly say it wasn’t just a trick of the mind.

 

His skin seemed wrong, with heavy folds

And of such a strange texture it barely seemed keep hold

To the flesh, and I was forced to shiver, despite the lack of cold.

Overly large, bulbous eyes

Set upon a face with wide lips that couldn’t disguise

-the eternal grimace set upon his lips.

It occurred to me that I was likely the first in a long time to make this trip,

-and wondered if the rest of this town would carry a similar look

As if populated by denizens of the hellish places

-described in my uncle’s book

 

As we pulled into the hellish town, it was the dead of night

-and I won’t lie and say I wasn’t overtaken by an uncontrollable sense of fright

It reminded me of those ghost towns, spoken of in old tales

-as if it had been built at the end of civilization’s trails.

 

Most of the houses were boarded up, ramshackle places

-more akin to wooden crypts

And of the people, I barely saw their faces

-but those I saw had fishy eyes, and thin lips

 

They stared out from behind moth-eaten curtains

-as if wholly uncertain

Of what to make of the stranger in their town

Perhaps reminded of when their homes were burned to the ground.

 

 

Entry Number Four

The knocking on the door…

 

My room at the local inn had a leak,

-the patter of rain on the roof causing the wood to creak

But worst than that was the scratching…

It came from the walls, detaching,

-any hope of getting a good night’s rest

The rats in the walls, burrowing through their  nest

-was of such an unsettling nature

That it had me on edge for some unseen danger.

 

I’d heard stories about this place, of voices that would wail

Such uncanny screams that the bravest men would pale,

And while I didn’t put much value in these tales

I locked my door nonetheless,

-and sat on by bed with a flashlight close to my chest

As if I were a child, and the light were an iron vest.

 

It was then that I heard the knocking on the door…

It must have been in the late hours,

-because I couldn’t even see the moonlight anymore.

I didn’t answer when I heard the knock,

But rather sat still as a stalk

-listening intensely as the people outside began to talk..

 

But the words were of a kind unlike any I have ever heard,

-with such guttural, rasping enunciation,

That I could barely make out a word.

I felt my heart beat with such power,

-that my fear seemed likely to devour,

Any sense of rational thinking I had.

Consuming me and driving me mad.

 

I heard keys jingle, and my skin began to tingle

-the hairs standing up on my skin.

I rose to my feet, my mind beginning to spin

As I tried the adjacent door.

Locked, I panicked.

The other door began to open and I decided to ram it!

D****t!

It burst open and I flew into the next room,

And none too soon.

For as I slammed the door shut behind me,

I was able to see,

The innkeeper and others follow.

What happened in the moments after, leaves my heart hollow.

 

My hand trembles too much to write of those events,

-some of the things, even now, make little sense

to a mind like mine.

What I can say is that I fled through that hollow town,

-seeing such monstrosities that even now,

My heart beats and I’m forced to look around

-out of fear that I’ll hear that horrible sound…

 

I was chased through the town’s streets,

-by people were less man than beast,

With scales for skin, bulbous eyes,

-as if by the sea they had been released.

 

It was a town that had sold its soul to some unknown devil

-selling their flesh to mate with those sea-things that revel

Beneath the oceans of that coast

Far past the place called Devil’s Reef, where monsters meet

-and that accursed cult boasts!

 

I fled from the town, seeking to hide in the abandoned mines

-only to find, that by going there I’d left far behind

Any sane part of what had once been my mind.

 

Those mines go deeper than any cave

-designed, yet not man-made

I followed those tunnels in hopes of finding some escape

Not willing to wait,

‘til the light of day.

For my impatience…I would dearly pay.

 

For when you delve into the shadowy corners of the earth,

-you discover what value mankind is really worth

In the grand scheme of the universe

And the only true escape, is by trip of a hearse.

 

Deep within those mountains, that led below the sea,

I discovered things men were never meant to see,

Things that only weeks before,

-I never would believe, could ever be.

 

Entry Number Five,

Where in Hell can a man hide?

 

 

[to be continued]

Author's Note

This is a work in progress. I haven't finished writing it, and I'll likely be editing the parts that are done very heavily in the future. I'm also experimenting with the font style. Feel free to offer some tips, ideas, or criticism. I'd appreciate it greatly. This poem is based off the short stories of horror writer H.P. Lovecraft, notably A Shadow Over Innsmouth, the Call of Cthulhu, Dagon, and The Nameless City and The Rats in the Walls. I'll likely reference other stories, as well.

Reviews

[RachelReaper]

I honestly really, really liked this. It reminded me of a kind of old fashioned style of writing that most people are talented enough to write that way anymore, but this was excellent! I really enjoyed reading it. No criticism on my part.

[Kenaz]

This is really cool. So far a very interesting story. You've used the word begun wrong in the fourth line. It can still be something like- "it has begun" it just has to have an auxiliary verb, I believe it is called.

[MachinaWriter]

Yeah, I just noticed that lol Good catch.