A Year of Stories: September Story

(Disclaimer: I'll try to make this short . . .

I feel I must have a disclaimer to tell everyone what my idea for this blog is. It's getting to the point where there are a lot of posts and I fear the idea of the blog is getting lost. I am a young writer and I'm still trying to learn this art. Like any art, I love to hear constructive criticism about my work, which is why I am posting my earliest drafts of my writing. Some of these drafts I have only looked over once or twice at best, and they may not be the very best I can do, but nevertheless, I want to show them off.

I'm looking for constructive criticism while I'm working. I am also trying to show everyone my progress as I grow as an artist. Being an artist of any kind takes a lot of work and time to make your craft perfect. And I want to show everyone that a man with a learning disability and dyslexia can be a writer. I may not be the greatest writer in the world and I'm alright with that, but I can be a writer who inspires people to create. Even if I only inspire one person to become an artist, I want to inspire them because my friends and family have done that for me. They have never given up on me and I want to show them the gifts that God has given me.

So with that said, I hope you enjoy my work. I would love to hear your ideas on what you would do to make the writing better. Also, if a draft gets removed it's because I'm working on it or I feel like it doesn't need to be on my blog anymore. Thank you for your time, I know reading can take a while. So I thank you again.

With a handshake,

Chase L. Currie)

The Lovecraft Secret

A Long Day

One Shot

Draft_4

By: Chase L. Currie

“Darkness has a face and she is the Queen of that darkness,

her name is Nacha, Queen of the damned,

the Queen of the spiders.”

-The Diary of Rain Lovecraft-

New York, New York City

8:45 PM, November, 12, 2014

On the Subway,

I have never been to New York before and what a city it is. The buildings seem to never end and they surround you like a wall keeping you safe. Safe from the outside world. The city and the people within the walls seem to create their own world. The city is a different planet and I can't say I like it. I know I wouldn't live here, that is for sure. I'm not a big fan of cities, too many people if you ask me. Not to mention the air smells funny. I like being on the outskirts of a city, where you can breathe, where you can move around. You can walk down the road, alone, and not fight against the waves of people. The seas of faces staring at you for your odd look. Those who believe you look like your great grandfather. Those people read too much if you ask me.

I am told a hundreds times before for getting on the train, you look just like H.P. Lovecraft. I did what I always did when someone said that to me, “Thank you,” said nothing more and go about my day. There is not much more I can say. I can't tell them my family is the Lovecraft and we are demons hunters. That my great grandfather's books were not work of fiction but works of fact with a little skew of the real thing. He was driven mad by his writing and was eaten by one of these monster. I heard it was Cthulhu but I've also heard it was something else.

When the story was being told to me all I could think of was my grandfather laughing to himself as the monster came upon him. He would fall to the ground telling the monster, You're real or if he was really feeling funny, YOU'RE ALIVE! I image this because he didn't know his books were real until the day of this death, or so the story said. I'm not sure my family know that, none of them where there.

What we do know is there are monsters in the world and they are trying to take over. Hell, they are close, if you want to believe the news. I don't really think they are or that they will want to rule the world. There is just too much work to do and humans, well we, like to mess things up. No matter who is in control no, the demons of the dark just want to play around in our world. Which mean cause a lot of death and horrible things. That is where I come in. I, Rain Lovecraft, must stop these demons and send them back to the dark realm.

My family has been cured, or blessed depending on how you look at it, was given the power to open the portal to the dark realm by the Necronomicon. The book (the Necronomicon) has also given us dark powers ranging from black fire to talking to the dead. By the way, the dead are have lively conversational people. Most of the time they want to know about love ones or whine about them being dead. It's never fun and I hate doing it.

Each person in my family has a different understanding of these dark powers. Like my father, Stephen Lovecraft can summon giant bats to his aid and can turn into a bat. It's sounds cool and it is really cool to see but bats crap everywhere. The clean is the worst thing every! My mother, she can turn into a ghost and go into the After-Life. It's not a bad power, she get to see my brother and family who have died and those who are still waiting to get to Heaven or Hell. From what she tells me there is a waiting area after that she can go any further. But she can also stay in our realm and mess with this. Think of all those horror movies you have seen and she can do all those things. Downside, she always cold. I mean always. We went to Sahara desert one time and she was still complaining about being cold. She said it comes from walking between worlds. Sounds like a good explanation to me.

Anyways, I'm in New York hunting down Nacha, the Queen of the spiders. One of her sons are in the city eating on people and I have tracked him down to a building on 41 Madison Ave. And by me, I mean I did none of the work. It was my friend, Hannibal, a red husky, who talks way too much. Mostly because he is the only dog I know of that can talk. His master, a thirteen year old girl named Kelsey Fade-way, once told me he was a gift from a wizard and that is why he talks. I'm inclined to believe her, she something like a wizard or so I think. She has powers but I'm not sure what they are or how they work. I'm not sure how my powers work most the time, which are simple to the rest of my family. All I can do is from my book. Sure, my book is one of spells, and the words in the book is magical and no one else can read them but my powers are not that great. Most the time the spells don't work or do anything.

Hannibal sat beside me in the train while it ran down the track. Every now and then someone would ask me if they could pet him. I look down at him and he would nod. He might be as smart as a human but he still a dog. So he let's anyone pet him.

After awhile, the train came to a stop and we got off. I follow the dog up the stairs and down the side walk. Cops would stop and looks at us wondering how a dog got onto the train, but they would never ask us. I guess a red husky walking around on the streets of New York is a unusual thing.

“We need to wait,” the British sounding dog said to me as we got closer to the building. I didn't disagree and faded into an alleyway to read a little and wait.

We let two hours fall off the clock before Hannibal told me it was time to attack. I closed my book and followed the dog. I'm not much of a fighter and would choose not to fight if I could. My father is not to happy about that. He think being a Lovecraft is called to arms. He think having this last name means we are a clan of warriors and should rush out to battle. I believe this last name is just a name.

We got into the building easily and I followed this powerful animal up the stairs, knowing Hannibal can't do most of the fighting. After all he is simply a dog. We walked up the steps with myself thinking about why I'm here. I'm here to save people's lives . . . I guess. We humans kill each other more than the Dark Lords do and yet, here I am fighting against this darkness. Then again, my mother believes it is the Dark Lords whom are making us kill each other. But I don't want to be in battle. I just want to write and live an easy life.

An easy life? Yeah right, that is not the cards for me. I'm not upset about it. I should be, but I'm not. I have been dealt these cards and I have to play with them. A while ago I was upset about it, but now, now I kind of enjoy the adventure part (not the fighting part.) I love the traveling, seeing all parts of the world. And the people I get to meet, normally when I'm saving them. But most of all, I love the stories I get to find in the world. I once read that a writer should live a life. I think I understand that more than most. I live a life that gives me unbelievable stories.

I had to put my thoughts away as we reached the top of the building. We walked up to the door and Hannibal sat down beside me. He looked up, almost smiling, and said, “Your turn, my friend.”

I sighed knocking on the door. Nothing happened. I heard movement on the other side but the door didn't open. I looked down at Hannibal who nodded at the door. But before I walked in, I open my spell book and write a few words in a dark unknown language. I like to call it Black Speech, after Tolkien's world.

The page of the book began to glows and the letters fly off the page and around me. The black ink bled into my skin covering my body in a deep black hue. I was almost as dark as the night outside but with a bright halo of red light around me. I hoped the blackness would act as armor and give me some power to fight against this spider. I wasn't a hundred percent sure the spell would do what I hoped. I can read black speech but I don't fully understand it. The language was not meant for humans. I pushed the door slowly open and stepped in.

I shut the door behind Hannibal, breathing in deep and readying myself for any attack that was about to come. Remember when I said my father taught us that we are warriors. Well he trained to fight, to be a warrior. I didn't enjoy it but I wasn't stupid. I took the training to heart because I knew one day it would save me. In fact, it saved me more than once.

The blackness around me started to move. I was standing in a room, but I was also standing in a web. I felt like I was falling, being spin around as I fell as if the floor below turn into dark water. I knew I would to hit the floor soon, to be swallowed by this endless blackness. My eyes could not find anything to hold on to as I flew through the air. I was lost and my head would not stop running circle around me even after I stopped. I tried to move but my arms and legs were trapped by the webs the spider shot at me.

I looked around only to find eight red eyes looking back at me. They slowly moved closer to me speaking as they did, “Hmmm . . .food came to me tonight.” I felt his legs moving across my legs but I did not freak out. I calmed my mind remembering what my father would tell me all the time. “Stay calm, Rain, and you'll out smart your foe.”

“What is your name?” He asked as the eyes grew closer. “It's rude not to know who you are having for dinner.”

“Rain,” I told him as the black armor around me started to burn like flames. “Rain Lovecraft.” The webs gave out and my feet fell to the floor. I jumped at the eyes, cutting through what I can only guess were legs with the claws around me hands. He screamed in pain trying to fight back but his blind attacks were worthless. The eyes fell to the ground as I bent over him. I couldn't tell how big the spider was but I knew he was a giant, that was easy to tell by his eyes alone.

He cried, “What do you want, Lovecraft?”

“Your mother,” I calmly said.

“Never,” he yelled, but I didn't let him talk much more after that. I shot my hands through his head, killing him quickly. I stood up, turning as the door opened and Hannibal was standing there. He didn't come into the room and the little light from the hallways barely lit the room up.

“Did you have fun?” The British accent asked me.

“So much,” I told him, my voice dripping with sarcasm.

“There should be a Family line,” he told me. I wasn't sure he saw my face, but there was a question starting to form on it as he went to explain. “A line that leads to Queen, in the webs. All her children have it in their nest.”

“Oh, how do I find this line?”

“It should be the thickest line in the room,” he said, “and it should be going through a hole and out of the room.” I spent the next few hours looking for this web line. I carefully cut through the web slowly hoping to hit a thick line and finally I did. I hit the line and it shakes, sending a sign to the Queen.

“So what now?” I asked.

“We hide and wait,” he told me. I found another page in my book, read the spell turning into the shadows of the room. We sat down waiting for something to happen and it took far too long. I was falling asleep when a paw landed on my hand. I almost jumped up from where I was steeping, but stopped myself when I saw tiny red eyes outside of the window. The window opened and a set of eight eyes rushed into the room. They started to cry when they find the body and crawl everywhere to look around. They didn't see us but they crawled right over us.

It felt like I was laying in bed in a deep sleep when I felt something on my skin. A spider crawling on me and it took everything in me not to bat it away. I had to steel my nerves. I try not breathe as the tiny spiders crawl all over me, then they left the room still crying about their dead brother, the same way they had entered.

Hannibal looked over at me. Even though I couldn't see him, I could feel his eyes trying to find me. He knew where I was but still couldn't see me because of the spell. He quietly said to me, “I have their scent now.”

“All good,” I said, standing up, casting off the spell and the webs. “That means we get to follow them, and I don't get to go home.”

“Just how life is,” Hannibal said, walking out of the room and I followed him. I follow him to the street and to the man hole cover. He looks down at it then back at me and said, “They went down there.”

“Why do they always go into the sewers?” I asked. Demons always go where it is dark. I just wish it wasn't in sewers. We climbed down into the dark tunnels that smell worse than anything else in the world. I felt sorry for myself for going down here and can't wait to find the Queen to get the Hell out of here. But I can't imagine what Hannibal was going through. His nose is a hundreds times better than mine. I feel sorry for him too. I want to tell him to go back up top but he won't. He won't leave me, and not to add I would have to carry him back up the leader.

I looked down at him, his eyes narrowed while he tried to fight the smell away and not throw up from the stench. “Next time,” he said, “we just let the spiders be if they go into the sewers.”

I chuckled a little and agreed with him.

After awhile your nose goes numb and you can't smell anything. Which is a blessing after being locked in a tunnel of crap and piss for a good hour or so. I asked Hannibal if he could still smell the spiders and he nodded a sure yes. However, I wasn't sure because we walked around in circles.

As we walked I couldn't help but wonder if this was going to be my life. My life walking around in shit looking for trouble. I know it's a noble thing to want to save the world from evil and darkness. I have been given the tools to do so but I don't always enjoy it. There are things I want to do with my life, places I want to go and people I want to see. I would love to have a normal life, where I go to school, have a bad job and have a family. But I don't get to do that, I understand, I have to fight. It is the right thing to do, that is what I keep telling myself anyways.

I guess, I'm questioning this more because I'm up to my knees in dirty water. “Hannibal,” I asked looking down at him, “do you think we'll be doing this forever?”

“Well,” he said, “I'm sure some day we will die.”

“True, I guess then we get to rest.” My father and mother are good at hiding the weariness of this life but my grandfather was not. He would drink mass among and try to black out the memories of the things he had seen. He was in Vietnam during the war fighting a demon who was feeding off the war. He saw things no one else ever saw. He would tell me about it when he was drunk. I would sit there, wide eyed, and chin on my hands listening to every word. It was better than any book or movie I had heard. It would give Stephen King nightmares that would have made him never want to write again. It was great for a young mind like mine. My father and mother hated it. It gave me nightmares even if I didn't know what the dreams were.

The only time it was weird was when my grandfather would break down crying. He lost a lot of friends in the war. He had tried to save them but failed. I could never tell which was worst for him, the deaths he saw by the demon or the ones he saw by men. I guess he understood what the demon was. He understood the monster killed and tortured because that was a part of it's nature. But when men did it to each other, he couldn't understand it. He would ask me, after the stories were over, “Rain, who is the real monster here, us or them? Maybe, God has sent them to clean the world of us. Maybe, these demons are the new flood and we are fighting the wrong battle here. Rain, I'm sorry . . . so sorry.”

I could never understand what he was sorry about. Was he sorry for telling me the stories, for breaking down like he did? Or was he sorry I had to live a life like no other? Then again, he could've been sorry that I was fighting what he believed or the wrong side of the line.

My grandfather disappeared from my life before I was ten. I was told it was drinking, but when I was fourteen or so I found some letters from him. He was angry in the letter talking about how the world is doomed and the Lovecraft should give up. Give up or help, he said. Help with the world coming to an end. He believed it was the right thing. I never asked what really happened to him, but I assumed he has changed side.

“We are getting close,” Hannibal said, looking up to show me lines of web crossing the ceiling.

“It seems we are,” I said, opening my book again looking for a new spell. What would it be this time? An army of shadow-like monsters? Or armor that made me look like a superhero? Or I could will the elements to kill the spiders. I pick two spells, one let me control fire and ice together. The other spell made Hannibal into a werewolf with super speed and strength. I knew I was going to need the help from him. I just didn't mean to make him so much taller than me. He towered over me, looking down at me, smiling.

“So this is what it feels like,” he said.

“What do you mean?” I ask.

“Every one is always looking down at me,” he said. “Now, it is my turn.” His smile grew bigger and we went on looking for the Queen.

The next time you step on a spider just remember it could be a child of Nacha, and she was not happy when you killed one of her children. She was really upset at Hannibal and I when we killed as many as we could see. We followed the webs into a large room where there were thousands of eggs. We went to town, killing as many of the eggs as we could. Soon several large spiders warriors I guess, show up and we had a battle gone wrong.

The warriors would shoot acid at us or try to shove their arms into our bodies. The end of their legs were more like swords than anything else. The battle was long but I would burn them or freeze the air around them killing them. Sometimes I would heat the air in their lungs so high they would explode. It was cool to see, but it made a mess when their blood would shoot everywhere.

Hannibal would jump a the warriors ripping into them with his claws, or break their legs with his super strength. If you asked him later about it he was not at all happy with the event, but I saw a smile shoot across his face. Normally, he has to sit out of the battle. He was happy to help and get out a little of his aggression. I decided to cast that spell more often as I watched him tear a spider apart. He almost giggled like a school girl.

The warriors didn't last long, and that is when she showed up. Nacha had a giant body like a spider, except her face. Her face was a human face. A lovely women face with eight blue eyes and skin to die for. However, the more you followed her skin down to her spider like body her skin started to change into a dark color. It was almost black. Her whole body was almost black. It reminded me of looking up at the night sky full of stars. I'm not sure there were stars in her body, but there were little dancing lights.

Hannibal jumped to my side as we saw the Queen cry out in agony for her dead children. Then her eight blue eyes looked dead at us. It was nothing new to see hate in the eyes of a demon but this was a different kind of hate. This hate was from a mother who just lost her children and was now facing down their killer. I didn't mind too much. She's a demon, I'm a human, we hated each other and wanted each other dead.

She wasted no time trying to kill us. She shot out poison webs and attacked us with her giant legs. We both ducked and dodged every attack but not easily. I knew this fight was going to be hard but I didn't know how hard. It wasn't like the warriors. The warriors left with easy and give us a false confidence. If the Queen was anything like her warriors then this was going to be over in moments.

She was mad and her rage fed every strike. It was taking more and more for us to dodge her. My body was starting to betray me. It was growing tried and there was nothing I could do about it. I could cast another spells, but to do that I would have to give up one. I would have to turn Hannibal back to the dog he is or give up my elemental powers. I jumped behind a pillar, seeing Hannibal attack the Queen.

I had to come with a plan and fast. I watched my friend go toe to toe with a giant spider demon and for a while he was doing a great job, but that was not going to last. I could see it in his movements. They were slowing and he wasn't attacking as much. I needed to do something . . .

I flipped through the pages of my book and found a spell. It would be a risk, but it might work. If it didn't work then Hannibal would be dead and I would have a lot to explain to Kelsey. I read the spell.

Hannibal instantly turned back to his dog form. He looked down at his body while the Queen stopped in shock. He looked back up at the woman's face smiling. He started to take off running, but she was already moving to kill him.

I picked her up and threw her against the wall. She hit the wall hard but not hard enough to kill her. She look back at me and I was standing in a black monster armor. The armor looked like her master. She took a moment to notice it wasn't her master. She jumped back on her eight legs, seeing me in the center of the monster. I attacked her and she blocked my hits.

But what she didn't know, not at first anyways, was that every hit was taking her power from her. I was absorbing her dark powers. As she grew weaker she started to see the lovely stars in her body fade. She screamed out in rage or pain, I couldn't tell nor did I care. I kept attacking as she tried to run away. She fled from the room, but I grabbed her legs, throwing her back.

I had to end this fight and fast. I could feel the dark power as it began start to eat away at me. The spell I cast would turn me into the dark master, and I could take power from dark thing out there in the unbeknown. The armor had an up side, not only making me powerful, but also recharging my book. The down side to this spell it corrupts my soul. I had to kill her before I turned myself into something worse.

I hit her with a few fireballs, catching her on fire. She rolled trying to put out the flames. Now with her powers almost gone my powers would work. She killed the fire quickly but I hit her with ice blot freezing her legs in place. I tackled her into a wall, ripping her legs free from her body and breaking them. She cried out in pain, but her cries were quickly silent. I used my giant fist to beat her into the ground.

I could feel the darkness inflame my blood. My arms and hands were not mine anymore. They moved without me telling them so. My muscles screamed out for rest but the hate never let me stop. I kept beating the face of the woman into the ground until I was hitting nothing but ground. My knuckles started to bleed but I couldn't feel the pain. I was losing it. Then again, I might have already lost it.

It was not until I heard Hannibal call for me that I spun away from to what I was doing. My eyes moved around in the black armor and down to my hands. Something told me to kill the dog and that was when I dropped the spell. I fell to the ground, my arms and hands throbbing with agony. If only that was the greatest of pain. I began to cry as Hannibal rushed to my side. My soul hurt from the dark powers. It was like someone had cut me with a knife a thousand times, while at the same time, ripping my heart free from my chest, play with it, and then took a big bite out of it before putting it back. Everything hurt.

“Rain,” Hannibal said, “Rain, talk to me.”

“I'm fine,” I said as I heard the spell call to me. The darkness, the master, wanted more of me but I couldn't give him anymore of myself. I by there for a moment trying to gather my strength. It took over an hour for the pain to fade, both from my body and soul. I got to my feet and I wrapped my bleeding knuckles with cloth I found. We made it to the subway where we waited for the train.

I was still a little out of it. I was tired and all I wanted to do was get home and sleep. I didn't think it was too much to ask for. The train pulled up and the doors opened and I heard a southern girl scream at Hannibal.

Hannibal rushed to the white haired girl with his tail wagging and she hugged him. She looked up at me with her dark green eyes, smiling and then saw my hands. Her smile faded as she took them in her and asked, “Oh darling, what happen here?”

Kelsey was born in Arkansas and she had a deep southern accent. It was easy for the few people on the train to know she was from the South. “You know,” I said with a shrug, “fighting a giant demon spider.”

“He used the master spell,” Hannibal said and I gave him a cold look.

We sat down on the train while Kelsey looked over at me, “Rain,” she said, sounding like over-protective mother, “there was no other spell?”

“I'm afraid not,” I told her and then I ask, “What are you doing here?”

“Well,” she said petting the red husky's head, “I miss my boy here.” I knew that was a lie. More than likely my mother had sent her here to make sure I was alright. Kelsey always did what my mother asked. I'm not sure why. I have asked what history is there, but my mother nor Kelsey will tell me. Hannibal said he doesn't know. I think it's a lie, but, oh well.

“So we should see some of the sights,” Kelsey said, trying to give me her best puppy dog eyes. I shrug, knowing I wasn't going to get any rest any time soon.

“Where to first?” I asked.

“Hmmm . . .” she said, trying to think of what she wanted to see first. She did this with her hand under chin like a small child. Kelsey always remind me of a child when she was trying to be cute and adorable. I always gave into her, always. “Let's go everywhere!”

 I wish I could sleep . . .