Ruins
A classic Lovecratian themed piece
As I sit with my back against the damp walls of this god forsaken temple I write this account of my final hours. Once the weak light of the lantern dies the Keepers shall claim me for their own vile purposes. I can already sense them, nightmarish shapes that gather at the corners of my eyes, clawed fingers that tug at the edges of my mind, and the hellish whispering that fills the cold silence of the temple's grand library. My only wish is that this is taken as truth rather than the ravings of a madman.
It started as I stood before the ancient temple, in all my years I have seen many that were similar but nothing quite the same. It was a bizarre mix of styles from many different cultures and times. Despite the strange shifts in style the stone from which it was hewn remained the same. The entire temple was carved, yes carved, from a single cyclopean mass of some otherworldly greenish-black stone. The very sight of the twisting designs that adorned the temple's many façades made my fur stand on end.
My guide, a young man from the nearby village, beckoned to me from the gaping maw of the temple's lone doorway. Stepping through that archway, covered in its vile symbols, felt like stepping into my own grave. Though at the time I paid it little mind. I felt safe enough. My guide claims to have explored the Temple's halls many times as a hatchling and I have already sent word to the University about my discovery and my intent to do a preliminary exploration of the ruins.
For hours he lead me through the silent cyclopean halls, somehow vastly different that the temple's seamless exterior. The clacking of my nails and the shuffling of his scales against the cold stone floor were the only sounds to be heard. Along the way I took careful notes of the twisted, borderline obscene, carvings that covered the walls.
Many of these carvings featured scenes of blasphemous rituals. Abhorrent creatures played the role of priest, while things that resembled the reptilian villagers were the sacrifices. I stopped before one grand carving, it filled the entire wall and contained details so vivid it may as well have been real. I could swear that I saw the flickering of the torches and heard the chilling chants of the mock-priests. The worst part was the creature that filled more than half the carving.
I could only guess that it was a depiction of their god. Even in the carving its shape seemed to fluctuate, an amorphous mass of writhing tendrils and screaming maws. Its tendrils wormed their way through the tormented earth, like maggots through diseased flesh. The maws snatched at the tattered corpses of the sacrificed villagers as they hung from cruel hooks of carved bone. Strange eyes dotted its surface and I could feel their alien gaze upon me.
I felt bile rising in my throat as I turned away, eyes closed. "It is horrifying, yes?" came my guide's raspy voice from somewhere further up the hallway. "We still tell stories of it." I felt my blood run cold even as I tried to convince myself such legends were only superstitious ramblings. Failing to notice my discomfort he proceeded to do his best to tell me one of the old tales, altering between my language and his. I followed his story the best I could, but my grasp of his village's language and customs was limited at best.
From what I was able to make out from his hesitant speech was that the mock-priests' name translated roughly to "Keepers", and how they once dwelled within the cyclopean temple. He also told me that the temple itself had stood long before the memories of his people and the other tribes that dotted the surrounding jungle, though how it was built and what it was carved from was unknown even to them.
He told me the stories of how the Keepers convinced the elders of his tribe to worship their god. It started with simple offerings and chants, many of which have long since been forgotten. Though as untold centuries passed, the offering changed to sacrifices and the chants became more frenzied, accompanied with bizarre and often obscene rituals. I asked about the scene from the grand carving but he only shook his head. "I have asked the elders many times, but they say no such thing happened. But I don't believe them, come, I will show you why." He scurried ahead, gesturing for me to follow.
Reluctantly I followed him, not wanting to be left behind in the alien darkness of the eons old halls. He led me through a labyrinth of winding tunnels, somehow more chaotic and strangely organic than the ones we just left. As we descended into the bowels of the ancient ruin I felt the temperature dropping fast. Within minutes my fur stood on end and I found myself shivering as my breath clouded before me.
Finally I caught up with my guide as he stopped before a great archway made from the same unearthly stone as the rest of the temple. "Watch your step." He warned as we stepped under the grand arch. The walls of the tunnel ended at the archway, past it, the edges of the path dropped into a yawning abyss. The path stretched a short ways and ended with a curious altar that merged seamlessly with the stone floor.
Despite my better instincts, I approached the altar. It was covered with the same eye-twisting runes and gut-wrenching carvings that filled the rest of the Temple. I lifted my lantern to try and see beyond the end of the narrow path. My efforts were rewarded with nothing but darkness, I fished a marble from a pouch on my bag and tossed it over the edge. It took nearly a minute before I heard the soft sound of it hitting something. Thought the sound was muffled as if the marble had struck flesh rather than stone.
Unnerved I leaned back from the edge, as my lantern passed over the altar once more I saw a series of stains dark enough to stand out against the greenish-black stone. For reasons I still do not know, I found myself reaching out and placing my hands on either end of the frigid stone slab. As my hands came to rest upon the altar I felt a tremor run through the ancient stone. No, tremor is far too normal a word for what this was. I felt it in my mind as much as I did my body. The massive cavern no longer felt empty. I suddenly felt very small, caught in the gaze of something far beyond my limited comprehension of reality.
I turned to find that my guide had vanished. My ears twitched as I heard the distant sound of something heavy being dragged away over the stone slabs. My heart pounded as my eyes frantically scanned the massive chamber. From the corners of my eyes dark shapes beyond any description writhed and slithered in ways that made my flesh crawl. At one point I thought I heard the distant sounds of some unearthly chanting echoing throughout the stone cavern. I don't know when I started running or where I thought I'd go but I soon found myself huddled in the corner of what seemed to be an ancient library. Pressing my back against the suddenly feverish stone, I stared wildly into the encroaching darkness.
Somehow a shred of sanity crept back into my mind. With trembling hands I write this account in hope that it is found before the rest of the Temple is unearthed and the things that dwell within are reminded of the world.
(Editor's note: This account was transcribed from a small leather bound field journal found wedged onto a shelf in one of the temple's side chambers. Sadly no trace of its author or the guide he mentioned have been found. Since its discovery at least five other archeologists and natives have gone missing within the temple halls. Several others have mentioned headaches and strange chills when near several of the lower chambers. For fear of continued loses and for the mental well-being of our remaining staff, the expedition will be canceled until further notice.)