Chandra Tamandani

Raining. It always rains here. The dark clouds block out the stars as I walk down one dark street soon replaced by another. This town is quiet, it always feels like everyone is hiding from something. It doesn’t help that a local author, by the name of Victor T. Halls and several of his friends, keep publishing stories about an underground city. A complete joke of a writer if you ask me, but I must give the man credit for trying to get Orting a little attention. 

It doesn’t effect me in the long run. The moment I get the chance I’m moving away from this town. I’ve been saving up money to move out since my freshmen year of high school. I think I’ve found a job in New York as a waitress, and a college so I can pursue my dream of becoming an artist. I won’t be able to leave for until summer comes around again. So instead I spend my time wandering the streets of Orting, searching for something that will give me inspiration for my next piece of artwork.

I can’t seem to find much to work with though. Ever since one of Halls’ friends, Olivia Eldritch, published a book called “The Under City” a sort of silence has fallen over the town. People stay inside more often than not; apart from the new comers, or so I call them. More and more people have been moving in to a new housing development called “Sepketano Gates.” They all seem to know each other in some way or another. I have gone there twice before with my boyfriend David, both times I had nightmares for a week after we left.

Apart from the new comers though, everyone has grown increasingly antisocial. The only thing that is making people talk to each other is extreme number of bear and cougar attacks. Everything from sightings, to property damage, to people going missing. One particular person who has gone missing has been of some worry to me and my friends. Luis Manus, he graduated with David and I, a good friend of us, even if he is annoying at times. 

Last week when David went to see if Luis had any new stories to be developed into films all he found was a half destroyed house. Luis was gone, the police report stated that nothing of value was taken, there were strange tracks that resembled a large bear. Since the report came out David has been acting strangely, he tells me that the police are lying about what they found. He keeps telling me we need to leave Orting while we can, and he hates it when I go out on walks, he isn’t even accepting any new films. What ever it is he thinks he saw at Luis’ house really shook him up.

I keep trying to tell him that everything is all right, that he’s just worked up from what he saw, mixed with all the new fictions coming out. I can’t seem to shake him from the idea that there is something else going on. Whats more is he won’t tell me what he think happened to Luis, and how he knows the police are lying. He just keeps saying that there was no way a bear could do that to a house. I’m thinking about suggesting that we go stay with my sister for a few days just so he can have a little piece of mind.

I started to make my way back down the dark streets of Orting, the rain is battering the top of my umbrella and I turn my collar up to the cold and damp. It will take me some time before I get home, and I find myself beginning to wish that I had just stayed at home instead of going for a walk. For a moment the rain let up, just a little, and hopes of staying somewhat dry crossed my mind. My hopes were quickly dashed upon the rocks of cruel reality; just as I began hoping to stay dry, the rain started to downpour with a renewed strength.

I was in the middle of the town when I heard police cars and an ambulance take off. All of them headed for Patterson hill, where Luis lived. Shortly after that I see my friend Samuel Wise walking out to his car from “The Back Alley Pub” he was just getting off his shift. I got his attention as quickly as I could. 

“Hello Sam.” He looked over to me from where he stood.

“Hey Chandra. I take it you aren’t here for the weather.” I did my best to laugh off his clear and unfounded suspicion.

“Actually, I was enjoying it until recently. It’s gotten a bit too extreme for me though so now I’m trying to make it home as dry as possible.” He laughed and unlocked his green truck.

“Ha! And here I thought you were trying to get a meal at half price from me. Want me to drive you home?”

“Yes, please, if it’s not too much trouble that is. It only seems to be getting colder.”

“Yeah hop in, it won’t be a problem.”

I climb into the passenger seat of his car as he starts the engine. The radio whirs to life with “Breaking news: Survivor of bear attack found on Patterson Hill. The survivor is claiming that he couldn’t see his assailant, and that it was not a bear. The survivor’s name is William Bearden. Police, in great numbers, have been arriving at Bearden’s house and have been doing their best to block the house from our view. We have caught some glimpses of the house, and the tracks leading to and from the property. Now, I’m no wildlife expert but I don’t believe I have ever seen a bear that can leave this kind of devastation behind.

Samuel turns the radio down after that, we are now driving. He looks relieved to hear the news that William is alright, but he is still a little too pale to pass as unshaken. William is a friend of ours, he graduated with us. I’m glad that he is O.K. but hearing that both William and the media are saying that it wasn’t a bear, that worries me a good deal. I’m beginning to grow curious of what it is that makes everyone so sure that these aren’t bear attacks.

We pull up to my house and Samuel says goodbye to me. I decide I won’t need to use my umbrella to get from the car to the house, by the time I am out of the rain again I’m completely soaked. I start to undress at the door, starting with my shoes and socks then I pull off my coat, jeans and shirt. I carry my things with me to the bathroom, once the door is closed I set my saturated clothing into a laundry bin. I turn the shower on and turn the nob to the hottest the water can be without burning my skin. Now I remove my bra and panties and step into the shower. The warmth of the water washing over my body is a much welcome relief from the cold.

When I finish my shower I dry off and wrap a towel around myself. I walk into the kitchen and look out the back window. I don’t know what happened, but I find myself sitting on the ground. I must’ve spaced off and fallen down. As I stand up the towel falls from around my chest, I pick it up and carry it in my hand to my room so I can get dressed. Once I’m dressed I grab my cell to try to call David to ask if he’s heard anything about Luis yet, or if he knows anything about William. His phone just rang and rang. I give up on that, he must be busy.

I spend a good twenty minutes trying to come up with something to paint before I give up. My mind is somewhere else. So I leave my studio and sit in front of the computer. My first search got me where I needed, so I begin reading the latest conspiracy theories about the attacks. Some of the more xenophobic theories described anything from Muslims terrorists, to Irish spies, and one suggested that it was one of the newcomers to Orting. There was also talk of extra terrestrial abductions.

I was very intrigued by one article that was published the same day David found Luis’ house destroyed. It was posted by Taveck M. Grants, the article seemed almost fictional, but the writing was very familiar to me.

------------------------------------------------Orting’s Haunt------------------------------------------

Our city has been being haunted by an unseeable creature. I have spent many days researching it’s habits and it’s weaknesses. Sometime within a week I believe I will have located an item which may be able to kill this creature. I did not know how this creature could still be living, as it has been written that they were buried in the earth along with their “God” who until recently I have believed to just be the ruler at the time the creature’s kind were at large. Though I am open to a wider spectrum of possibilities after reading a few articles by Victor T. Halls, as well as a recent story written by Olivia Eldritch. 

Although I believed myself to be the only one with access to the resources that I have, I find too many similarities between their stories and an ancient text of which I am in possession. Now it is apparent to me that if humankind is to survive these creatures that I can only hope that Mr. Halls and Ms. Eldritch as well as all of their companions, are proponents for human survival. I don’t think we will be able to survive unless there is an alliance between The Manus Foundation and The Organization. 

I am going now to find if I can’t broker a deal between these two groups. Then I will be trying my hand at finding the dagger that can kill these beasts. My advice to anyone who is unfamiliar with these creatures exact nature, is to get as far from Orting as possible, because someone is bringing them back. They are not something to be toyed with, and the normal solution of guns and fire simply will not do. Those who live out in the woods are in greater danger than those who live in city limits, but all the same those in Orting and neighboring cities should do their best to remain cautious. Keep Daises with you, and above the entrances to your house.

Unlike all of my fellow hunters and researchers I will not lie to you about the genre of this. This is not a piece of fiction that is purely made for your enjoyment. This is me saying that there is something out there, and you need to be afraid of it. Because only fear will keep you alive. This is purely nonfiction. You have been warned.

~Signed Taveck M. Grants~

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After reading this I have quite a bit to think about. I recognized the writing as Luis’ work. I don’t know if I should take his last paragraph for what it says it is, or if he only wrote this piece in an effort to make money. I can’t bring myself to ignore the fact that the article was published only an hour before David found Luis’ house in such a state of destruction. The manner of this clue, or whatever it is, is truly confusing.

I sit for a while, thinking on what I have read. My mind is rushing to my aid, trying to come up with an excuse. It must just be the new idea that David had gone up to see about, though it’s odd that he would write it under a pseudonym. Especially when it was something that he was pitching as a film. With nothing else to do, I look up “Taveck M. Grants: Writing.” What I find is a collection of pieces. All of them seem to be written in the same manner as the most recent, and the last one. I’ve never seen any of these before. They date back seven years from today. What’s more, they are all associated with a private group named “The Manus Foundation” who have been around for upwards of five hundred years according to their homepage. Beyond that I couldn’t seem to find anything on them.

All of this new information is beginning to give me a headache, not to mention how little any of this makes any form of sense. I’m starting to get frustrated with this whole situation. I get up from the computer, stretching my legs and arching my back as I stand. Looking around the room I’m calmed by the familiarity of the room, posters of David’s different films cover the walls, accented by a prop from place to place. One poster catches my attention more than the others. Five characters stand in an arrow shape, all looking grim and trying their best not to smile. It was the first film that David’s studio had completed, everyone had been excited that day.

It’s not the wave of memories that caught my attention though. David always keeps that poster hanging straight; but looking at it now, the poster is crooked, and I can just barely see the edge of a photograph sticking out from behind it. Careful as I can, I take the poster down. Where the poster covered the wall was a spiderweb of red thread connecting notes, papers and pictures. Dead center of the web was “Orting’s Haunt” by Taveck M. Grants, next to it is a picture of Luis and a picture of the Manus family crest. Next to that, a picture of Victor T. Halls, and then Olivia Eldritch. Also on the web is a map marked with the locations of the different attacks.

I don’t know how long I have spent now standing in front of this web. I do however know that it is getting late. David should be home by now. Carefully I grab the poster and place it back on the wall. I walk out of the computer room and into the living room. I reach for the phone to call David. Darkness. Sudden and complete darkness. The powers out. I let out a long sigh, I would probably be embarrassed if I were to have done the same in public. I hear something now.

The sound is distant, far from the house. It’s a groaning scream with some unexplainable distortion. Like something from a movie. I hear it again. It’s closer than before. Then a terrible sound, cracking wood, glass breaking, and metal being wrenched apart. I rush to my front room, looking through the front window I can see as a house a few streets down is shattered as if some creature has torn through it’s side. Then part of the roof is torn from it and flung across the street, smashing through part of the house it hit. Over the smashing and deafening rain I think I can just barely hear a scream. Then a limp body is lifted up and torn in two. By nothing. There was nothing there. The very air had turned against the world. Another groaning scream. Then the dark deepens.