Spooky596

Three days later, Olivia woke in the hospital. Her whole body hurt, she had fractured ribs and more cuts and bruises then she could count. She was told she had been found laying on the bank of the lake alone, clutching a green stone and her bag. Her camera was ruined and it was found that the ruins had collapsed due to rushed excavation. They had recovered seven bodies from the rubble, Rick was among them dead for two days she was told. They thought she was mad when she told them he had been alive before that. Van Morton came to see her and she told him the story of what had happened, he had listened intently not interrupting her till she had finished. “You don’t believe me do you?” She asked, her voice sore and small. Van shook his head. “No, the trouble is I DO believe you and I know we have to keep quiet about this.” Olivia looked up at him, her expression confused and hurt. “What, but why? People died Van, Rick died, I nearly died!” She could feel tears in the corner of her

The glass oil bottle arced through the air toward the pale noisom horrors, and crashed to the stone floor between them, oil spreading for a moment before flame burst up all around engulfing the semi human beasts. Flame licked at their bodies, pale fungus shriveling up recoiling from the heat. The things screamed, howl's that could have come from neither man nor beast of this earth. The pale fungi burned away as the thing arched back and then collapsed to the floor leaving little more than skeletons blacked by fire, grotesque in their horrible suggestions of man and beast. This all happened in the span of a few moments from her toss to the creature's demise. Olivia snatched the heavy gun out again, trying to remember how many shots she had fired how many rounds remained. She was trying to make her way to Rick, she had to untie him, had to stop the blood from spilling on the altar, somehow she knew that would open the gate. One of the pale robed figures was standing over Rick and the

The chamber was silent again save for the moan of the caged horrors behind her and her own breathing. Olivia wanted to move on but hesitated, pulling out her camera from her inner pocket she walked up to the twisted form she had shot and killed. It lay in a crumpled heap its deformed face still, the flesh still pale other than a hole in the center of its forehead and a thin trail of black ichor running down, she wasn’t even sure it was blood. Her stomach was in knots, it felt wrong, but she had to, she raised the camera and snapped a couple photographs. “It was self defence and it was hardly even human anymore.” Tucking the camera away, she turned and made her way further down the hall past the titanic unspeakable aeon shadowed altar that she dared not look upon too long. She came to realize that the gigantic columns were actually arches lining the passage made of huge blocks of some obsidian stone she had never seen before. Each block was taller than a full grown man and half as

At last working up her nerve to get out of the car Olivia opened the door and stepped out into the chilly night air, she had parked up on a small overlook above the lake. Below Crescent Lake reflected the pale full moon, a thin mist rose off the lake and glowed silver in the moonlight. Olivia placed the stone carving in her backpack as well as the rope and one flashlight, she had bought two just in case. The batteries and bottles of oil went into the bag as well, the oil lamp was clipped onto the outside of the bag. She pulled it onto her back and adjusted it, she felt as prepared as she could be for this. She leaned back inside the car and opened the glove box, pulling out her small camera. It might be useful, it was tucked into an inner pocket of her jacket. Liv tucked the two fully loaded spare magazines into one of the belt pouches and after a moment's thought she slipped the half empty box of .45’s into one of the side pockets on her backpack. Standing there in the silvery

The Falmouth press was hot as it had been yesterday and the day before that but Olivia didn’t care about that, she entered and headed straight for Van’s office, knocked then opened the door and entered. The room was sparsely decorated, a single potted plant sat on the window sill. Van was seated behind his desk, and his eyes widened only for a moment when she entered. “Olivia, you look like hell.” He said without a trace of aggression in his voice his eyes sliding over her for a moment before he stood up. Van was wearing brown slacks, suspends and a white shirt, his jacket hung on a coat rack beside the door, a hat perched atop his head to hide the fact that he was balding. He seemed almost unaffected by the heat; only a single fan sat on his desk, the one concession to acknowledge the heat at all. Olivia flushed a bit and pulled her shirt closed a bit more but walked confidently up to her desk. “Chief I have a lot to tell you, this story is big.” She reached into her bag and carving,

Hours passed while Olivia sat scanning through the books for information about this strange and shadowy religion worshipping an ancient being as their God. She found a few articles about mysterious deaths possibly linked to this Sect of the Moon Wyrm, and reports of strange rituals carried out in the dead of night near bodies of landlocked water. Olivia took notes writing them down in a small yellowed pad of paper, the fire light flickering across her face. It seemed the religion believed that their moongod had become trapped inside a body of water, through some cruel trick or dimensional fluke and as the old man had said that Orth’gaal would rise one day and bring about the birth of Paradise. Finally, she stretched pushing her chest out and shoulders back, taking a deep breath at the same time. Then at last she reached out and pulled the heavy Necronomicon toward herself and opened it. The worn yellow pages crinkled and the leather spine creaked but the book held together. Olivia

Olivia woke early the next morning after a fitful night's sleep, she rolled over and looked at the clock, 6:47AM, it was cool, but the blessed coolness wouldn’t last. She lay in bed for a few moments savoring the feel of the cool sheets around her, her chest rising and falling with her slow steady breathing. Laying there in bed the memories of yesterday came back, crashing over her like a tidal wave. She shuddered and wrapped her arms around her breasts, rubbing her elbows feeling too cold now. She sat up, knowing what she had to do today and that was get to Arkham. Olivia pulled herself from bed and padded to the bathroom, dropping her nightgown on the floor in a heap. She had a quick shower and brushed her teeth, before stepping back out into her bedroom, wrapped in a towel. She picked out a pair of black slacks and neatly starched dark blue dress shirt as well as a fresh bra. Olivia avoided wearing dresses as much as she could, especially for field work even if the shirts tended

Falmouth Lake Horror. The Falmouth, Massachusetts newspaper office was hot, uncomfortably so it was mid August and far hotter than normal. Olivia Sutton sat behind her desk staring at her typewriter and the scattering of hand written notes that littered her desk a modest manila folder sat haphazardly on the edge of her desk being ignored. It was a slow news week. The intense unnatural heat made it feel like everything had slowed down, outside her window she could see the street below and hardly any cars or pedestrians passed by on the street or sidewalk. Olivia sat back in her chair and heaved a sigh that pushed her chest out, she wore a white dress shirt, and tie as well as brown slacks and flats, though the tie was pulled loose and the first few buttons of the shirt were undone, she had a suit jacket as well but this was tossed over a filing cabinet in the corner of her small office, her copper hair was pulled up in a messy bun to keep it up off her neck. Olivia had worked hard to