Untitled

Tales of Horror
Macabre Monsters of Michigan
Bryan C. Laesch
Copyright © 2017 Bryan C. Laesch
All rights reserved.
No portion of this book may be reproduced in any form without permission

from the publisher, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law. For
permissions contact: bryanclaesch@yahoo.com.
Cover by Bryan C. Laesch

Table of Contents
RE: Encounter
The Serpent
Becoming The Dragon

RE: Encounter
To: SuperCuteTXNGirl75
From: RichMICHFarmer73
Subject: US Pen Pals: Greetings
Date: 25 April 2000

Greetings from Michigan! Hi, there. I was matched with you through US
Pen Pals. I thought I’d take the initiative and introduce myself.
My name is Rawlin. I’m 27, brown hair, blue eyes, 6’3”, and in decent
shape. Better than average—I have to be in order to work on a farm. I
mainly take care of cattle, but I also have horses, goats, chickens, and a few
dogs.
In my free time, I like to hunt and fish, read, ride horses of course, and
spend time with my dogs. There is more, but I think that’s enough for now.
So, what do you like to do? What do you look like? Do you have any
pets? What do you do for a living?
Hope to hear from you soon!
Subject: RE: RE: US Pen Pals: Greetings
Date: 29 April 2000

Hey, Kelly! I’m so glad you replied.
You sound like an authentic country girl to me. I love a country girl with
a Southern drawl. I like how tall you are, too. Not many girls are as tall as
you. You sound beautiful, and no, I wouldn’t mind exchanging “pics” later
on, if I know what they are. Is that some kind of Internet slang?
I haven’t met many girls who like to fish. Personally, I prefer
bowfishing, but I do like to catch pan fish once in a while. I have my own
boats: a canoe for regular fishing and a slightly larger rig for bowfishing.
What else do you like to do? Do you hunt, hike, swim, etc?
It’s funny you should mention Detroit—I’m actually from Detroit
originally. But I currently live out in BFE in Clare County. It’s in the upper
half of the Lower Peninsula. I couldn’t stand the city. Where I live now
doesn’t even constitute a city, town, or village. I forget most of the time that
I have neighbors.
I love that you have two dogs yourself. Of course, I like Rotties despite
the negative image. I like most dogs. As for mine, I have a 7 yr old German
Shepherd, Lady; a 5 yr old Belgian Malinois, Duke; and a 4 yr old
Doberman, Spike. Lady was my first—technically she came with the house.
Well, actually the farm is mine. I work it by myself, but I don’t really
need to, so I don’t make a lot of money off it. It’s a labor of love, though I
have cut down on the number of cattle I have in favor of goats and
chickens. They’re much easier to take care of. And I only have two horses:
Buckshot, my all American Mustang, and Bill, my all Arabic Arabian.
But, you said you were still in school; are you still going for your
Bachelor’s or are you a Grad student?
Rawlin
Subject: Stuff
Date: 5 May 2000
Kelly,
Sorry it took so long to get back to you. I’ve been really busy the past
few days. One of my calves got really sick, so I had the vet out here.
Unfortunately, it’s not looking good for him. This has never happened to me
before.
But this is a good segue into your question: as far as sustaining myself
goes, I actually inherited quite a bit of money from my parents when I was
19. They died in a car crash on their way home from a party. The insurance
agent suggested they may have swerved to prevent hitting an animal
crossing the road. My father was an accountant with a few top notch
connections to Detroit’s political elite. My mother had a Ph.D. in Art—her
career never really took off. But, yeah, that’s why I’m able to live the way I
do. I do make some money selling eggs, goat milk, beef, and roadside
veggies or chopped wood, but it’s a pittance compared to what I have in my
savings. So indeed, I am a rich Michiganian farmer.
And yes, I did go to college. I majored in veterinary sciences. I took a lot
of biology and animal behavioral classes. I dropped out after my parents
died, but I never stopped learning on my own. Can’t tell you how many
books I have on animals, especially dogs and wolves. Wolves have always
been my favorite since the first time I went to the zoo. There’s a real
intelligence behind those eyes. And I find the word “wolf” to be mystic by
itself.
Anyway, sorry about that heavy stuff. So you’re in a nursing program,
eh? I’ve heard that’s a hard career to break into. Good luck to you. But your
original degree was in English? How did you go from English to nursing?
I’d love to take you hunting. The sport needs more women. I’ve hunted
game all over the country: Alaska, California, S. Carolina, New York, and
even Texas. But I’m best in my home state. I’m going to assume that as a
real country gal you’ve shot a gun before. What guns have you shot?
No doubt you look good in a bikini, but skinny dipping, huh? If I didn’t
know any better, I’d say you were flirting with me. Ever go skinny dipping
in the Great Lakes?
Rawlin
P.S. Lady was left behind by the guy I bought the farm from. She didn’t
seem traumatized and she already knew how to herd.
Subject: RE: RE: Stuff

Date: 10 May 2000
Dear Kelly,
It’s okay; you don’t have to be sorry about my parents. I made peace
with the whole thing years ago. To be honest, I was never very close to
them. I was actually closer to my driver—yeah, we were so well off I had a
driver. Y’know, mumsy and dadsy couldn’t spare time to take their little
boy to school, esp. when I had to go to school outside of Detroit—I’m sure
you know why. But my mother didn’t do much besides read and take care
of the little yappy dog that I begged them for. Well, I didn’t ask for Itsy-
Bitsy—that bitch. My mother was the one that chose it. Anyway…
My driver, James, was a cool guy. He had originally been a butler in
New England for a few decades. A real gentleman, but he would spend his
vacations hunting and fishing. He would often tell me how depressed he
was to be in the city and how marvelous the great outdoors were. He told
me all of his hunting and fishing stories, at least three times each. It didn’t
matter to me that I’d heard them before. I loved them all and he was a great
storyteller. James and the zoo are what made me really passionate about
animals and the outdoors and part of the reason why I don’t like the city.
(The city’s already dirty and dangerous by itself.) But after my parents died,
I decided that I didn’t require him anymore. I knew how to drive, but I
wasn’t allowed to since that was “the help’s job.” When I let James go, I
gave him a nice cushy severance pay and I still call him occasionally.
Good to hear you have so much experience with firearms and bows.
Now I won’t have to teach you as much when we go hunting. And of course
we can go fishing in the Great Lakes. We can do some bowfishing and later
some skinny dipping, ha ha ha.
Sincerely,
Rawlin
P.S. Yes, the reason why I write these emails so formally is because of my
upbringing.
P.P.S. Uh, you asked about the calf. Unfortunately, he didn’t make it. But
the circumstances surrounding his death are a little weird. I’m not sure you
want to hear about it.
Subject: Weird Creature

Date: 15 May 2000
Dear Kelly,
Well, if you’d really like to know…
A couple of days before I wrote you back last time, something strange
happened around here late one evening. I was in the house relaxing after the
day’s work. I was sitting at my computer about to write back when I heard a
commotion outside. It was faint but I was able to recognize it as coming
from my herd. Believe it or not, cattle make more noises than just “moo.” If
they feel threatened, they’ll warn others by snorting and stamping the
ground. If they’re distressed or in pain, they will “moo,” but it has a
different pitch. Well, I heard this noise from the house, so I got a flashlight
and went out to investigate.
As I got closer to the herd, I could see what was left of a great furor.
Dust was kicked up from the ground, the herd was spread out with all the
calves on the outside, and there was a distressed moo coming from the
center.
When I investigated, I found the calf on the ground ripped apart; his
mother was making most of the racket. I had never seen anything like it.
Something had bitten into the calf’s neck and tore it out. There were also
claw marks on his flanks.
Now, this is weird as hell for a variety of reasons:
1. The calves should be in the center of the herd if they’re attacked and
the herd should be clumped together, meaning something was able to sneak
into the herd or was able to break it up.
2. Sometimes wolves will rip open or break the neck of smaller prey, but
this is a damn calf! They are not small.
3. There shouldn’t be any wolves on my farm in the first place! There is
a fence built around it, but no predator could jump it.
I unfortunately couldn’t inspect the calf too closely because his mother
was mad with grief. She almost charged me a few times. So the next day I
called the vet to have him examine the situation and see if he could tell
what did it. I had to use Lady and Duke to drive the herd away from the
body. He said that it was definitely a predator and looked like a wolf, but
the tooth and claw marks were too big. He also mentioned that the herd
seemed restless and scared. And to be honest, I’m a little alarmed myself.
About a week ago I saw this weird creature. I was driving home from a
small venture in town picking up feed. I was the only one on a dirt, country
road and it’s a long drive, but the day was beautiful. It was warm, so I had
my window rolled down, enjoying the breeze and watching the sun set. The
sky was aflame with beautiful yellows, oranges, and reds. But as I was
looking out my window, I saw this dark wedge shape suddenly rise out of
the tall grass that lines the road. As I got closer, I could tell it was some
kind of canine. The head was quite large and lupine with pointed ears. I
didn’t stop for a better look because I was pretty sure it was a wolf. But
there was something off about it—I can’t put my finger on it.
And then as I passed by, it turned its head and it made eye contact
sending a shiver down my spine. It had brown fur and black eyes. Another
thing that struck me as odd was that it could see over the grass, which I
thought was three or four feet high. A wolf or dog sitting down wouldn’t
have been able to see over the grass. And if it had been standing on two
feet, I should’ve seen its front legs, shouldn’t I? Well, as I drove on
watching it in my mirror, it disappeared back into the grass.
I have no idea what it was. Would you know? I’ve never seen a wolf that
large in the wild, but with a steady diet, they can weigh close to 200 lbs.
But what would it be eating out here? Sure there are wild deer around, but I
wouldn’t think there were enough to feed a predator that size. If you have
any ideas what it might be, I’d like to hear them.
Until then, this has been Rawlin J. Signing off from Weird Michigan.
Subject: RE: RE: Weird Creature

Date: 19 May 2000
A Sasquatch?! Come on. I’ve hunted all over the country and never have
I seen a damn Bigfoot. Although, I once went hunting in northern
California and I had a guide with me who was a member of the Yurok tribe
—a NA tribe that lived in northwest Cali. According to him, there was a
beast that lived in those woods that he called “yayalee” which means “hairy
man.” And as it so happens, I do know about your southeastern Texan
Bigfoot. But, in both places, I have never seen any evidence. However, my
Yurok guide was super paranoid while we were out there.
As for what I think what it was, I don’t know. I’m pretty sure it was a
wolf. I actually found some prints not too far from where the herd was that
night. They were wolf tracks, but they were gigantic! A big wolf will have a
paw print the size of your hand, but these prints were bigger than that. And
as you recall, I am quite tall, so I’ve got big hands. I can’t imagine how big
this wolf should be. But it still doesn’t add up.
The fence I mentioned isn’t a rickety picket fence like in Wizard of Oz.
My fence is made of wooden posts about five feet tall with a grid-like wire
spread from post to post. So unless the creature can jump over it (unlikely),
then it must have wire cutters. And so you know I’m not talking out of my
ass, I did inspect the fence over the past few days and there was no sign of
any damage or anything digging under it.
Anyway, when I was inspecting those tracks, I only found a set of two. I
decided to measure the stride, which is done by measuring from the front
paws to the back. A stride is usually about 26 in, but I didn’t find four foot
prints. And these prints weren’t among scattered cattle prints—the soil was
undisturbed between them. It is possible that the wind covered them up or
that the prints belong to my dogs and they were distorted by the wind. If not
however, then the space between the two tracks measured three feet. That’s
a big gait—a scary big gait. Though, if the wolf was running, I guess it’s
possible. But if there are no more instances, I don’t care.
And since you liked it so much, this has been Rawlin J. Signing off from
Weird Michigan.
Subject: Wendigos
Date: 10 June 2000
Kel,
I know we were making plans to do something later this summer, but it
might be safer if you don’t come to Michigan. Some strange shit has
happened around here. To be brief, I’m missing a few goats. I had about
twenty, but some of them are just gone. Myrtle, Mindy, Daisy, Billy, Gruff,
and my favorite of them all, Satan. He got that name because he has eight
horns instead of the standard two. (He’s a “polycerate goat.”) I’ve also
spotted more foot prints. Every time I see them, there is approx. a 3 foot
gap between them, and it never looks like a set of four. That scares me.
Maybe it is a Sasquatch. But it does kind of remind me of stories that I
have heard about Wendigos. Native American folklore tells of creatures that
are supposed to be demons that were humans who committed cannibalism.
After having done so, they were doomed to walk the planet feasting on
humans, and they could transform themselves into any animal of the forest
in order to get close to their prey. Doesn’t sound like a wolf, I know, but I
have seen some very scary art of wendigos. There is a guy in town who is a
member of the Potawatomi tribe. I’m going to go talk to him tomorrow. I
hope he has some info.
Rawlin
Subject: RE: RE: Wendigos
Date: 11 June 2000
Well, I had a weird experience last night. As I was coming home last
night from talking to Mr. Walks-As-Bear (I shit you not!) I could see
something strange, running in the field along the road. I saw what looked
like a head just bobbing up and down above the grass. I couldn’t make it out
too well since it was ahead of me at quite a distance and it was the tail-end
of dusk going into the night. And this bobbing head was going in the
direction of my farm! I sped up.
As I got out of my truck, I could hear my dogs making an awful racket.
My goats were also baying and the cattle were snorting and stamping. I ran
around to the back of my house and drew my gun and shot it into the air. (I
conceal carry every day.) When I got there, one of my security lights went
on, but another one at the other end on the house was already on. It was just
outside my dining room window. Nothing was there, but I could hear
footfalls off into the darkness. I decided not to follow them when I saw the
foot prints below the window were paws. And I saw saliva and scratches on
the window.
I got inside my house, locked my doors, and pulled the shades. In the
morning, I took pictures of the prints alongside a ruler and measured how
high the scratches and saliva were—it was more than 7 ft tall.
I took the pictures back to Mr. Walks-As-Bear today to get his feedback.
Yesterday, when I saw him at his reservation-souvenir shop, he told me that
what I was describing sounded to him like a “wabeno,” a type of shaman
that is a shapeshifter and could turn itself into an animal. He also mentioned
that in some Native legends, shapeshifters were often tricksters, like those
in Greek mythology. But he didn’t know of any that attacked livestock. He
was very interested to see me again today “looking more anxious than
yesterday,” and he thought my pictures were fascinating.
After talking about it with him for a while and not getting anything new
out of him, he offered to do an old exorcism-blessing-type thing. I wasn’t
too keen about it but agreed because if it works, I can’t argue. So earlier this
evening, he and his son came out to my house. They examined the foot
prints themselves and after looking around the farm for a minute or two,
decided that I was definitely under attack by something. They went back to
their truck and took out a bundle of dried sage. They lit it and as it gave off
this thick white smoke, they circled the house chanting an incantation. I
don’t know what it was, but they said that I’d be protected for now. I asked
them to do the whole farm, but they refused—I don’t know why. They did
look a little spooked themselves, esp. the son. So, we’ll see how this turns
out.
Rawlin
Subject: (No Subject)
Date: 17 June 2000

Kelly,
I found Satan. Or rather his head.
The past few days I’ve been scouring my property for traces of my goats.
I was out there with Duke, using his superior sniffer, and yeah, we found
Satan’s head. I can’t believe something ripped his head off his body. Don’t
mistake my calm demeanor—I’m quite shaken. But Duke and I also found
some other interesting things, or traces rather.
We found a trail of paw prints leading into this small patch of trees on
the property. It’s almost a miniature forest. It’s big enough to conceal a
person or animal, but only temporarily. You couldn’t live in there. There are
some bushes spaced out around the trees, but they are sparse as is the
foliage from those trees.
Duke followed his nose into the center of the thicket and we found
several bones that I identified as goat, which were clearly disfigured or
gnawed on. I also saw some chicken feathers and bones. I checked my coop
later and discovered that I was missing a few which really terrifies me. The
door to the coop has a latch and I don’t see how paws could work it. I also
found some hair samples, but I didn’t collect them then. I wanted to go back
to the house and get a zip-top bag, but Duke was super anxious. He kept
pulling at the leash and whimpering.
I left as fast as I could with Duke and tried to get back to the timber
before “it” could. I made sure to take my Marlin 1895 with me when I did
so. But as I was coming up on the thicket, I became very uneasy. I felt like
something was watching me from within those woods. I had goose bumps
and chills all over my body. I felt like crying out of fright. And I thought I
could hear a low growl.
I began to back away, not daring to turn my back to the thicket, when
suddenly one of my cows mooed real loudly. I jumped and accidentally
fired my gun. It jumped out of my hands and I’m pretty sure I screamed.
When I composed myself, I picked up my gun, and turned to walk back
to the house, when suddenly I heard rustling coming from the wood. I
cocked my gun, spun and fired at the sound. I cocked my gun again and
waited. When nothing happened, I backed away until I felt comfortable
turning around. I’m sure there’s something in there. I hope that blessing that
Walks-As-Bear did works.
I think I’m going to have to call somebody, but I don’t know whom.
R.
P.S. It means a lot to me that you’re still talking to me after all this. It’s very
comforting. And yes, your bikini pictures did cheer me up. Camo bikinis
look really good on you. Who was the girl in the patriotic bikini?
Subject: Encounter
Date: 25 June 2000

You’re gonna think I’m crazy, but I had an experience like no other the
other night.
Ever since the thicket, I’ve been trying to go back to get those hair
samples. As a part of my precautions, I’ve been doing my ranching on
horseback to give me added speed and height. I’ve also started carrying a
shotgun armed with slugs. I try to position myself so that I am near enough
to the thicket to either see something move or so I can get in and out as fast
as possible. But every time I get near the wood, I get that uneasy feeling.
More and more of my livestock are disappearing, and I now know that that
ancient Native American blessing works, albeit… ignorance is bliss.
So, I was having a quiet night at home, drinking, thinking, at my wits’
end, when suddenly I heard a great howl. It was loud, and it was close.
Around the same time, I heard my cattle mooing and stamping. I grabbed
my gun as I headed outside. I forgot to close the door, so my dogs followed
me out. They were agitated; I’ve never heard them bark like they did.
When we got to the edge of the herd, they stopped and started snarling.
They were crouched low with muzzles wrinkled, hackles raised, tails
stiffened, and ears pinned back. I began to scan the herd and saw that the
cattle’s attention was to my far right. I looked up and saw a figure on all
fours, but it was tall and gigantic. It was twice the size of Lady and taller
than my waist.
As it got closer, my dogs began to whimper and slink away. Lady was
the first as if she recognized the scent of the creature. (Don’t ask me how I
know that.) Suddenly the creature broke into a charge! All four of us hauled
ass back to the house. I was sure that whatever it was was going to catch me
and kill me.
My dogs beat me back to the house and I had the great misfortune to trip
as I got close to the house. I smacked my face into the dirt, fell on my gun,
and thought the end was coming for me. But as we ran back to the house,
my security lights came on. I figured if I was going to die, I wanted to know
what it was that killed me. I turned around, but saw nothing standing over
me or close to me. I looked around furtively and saw nothing obvious, but I
knew I was being watched.
I looked toward the edge of the light cast by my security lights and saw
the figure there. It was still on all fours, but as I slowly got up, it stood up! I
couldn’t make out any details, but it was tall, had backward bent legs like
the back legs of a dog, a wide chest, and long, low hanging arms, and I
thought I could see a muzzle and ears.
As we stared at each other, it made a “harrumph” type of sound, like it
was frustrated. It took me a second, but then I remembered the blessing. It
was working like a barrier. At that moment, I got mad, angry for my cattle.
Emboldened by anger, revenge, and the barrier, I lifted my gun and fired.
I’m sure I hit the beast either in the head or chest, but if I had, it shouldn’t
have been able to run away like it did. On two legs at first, but then it
dropped down to four. As it ran, I emptied my shotgun at it, but I never
went beyond the barrier.
I’m quite concerned that since we’ve had this encounter that it will come
out in the day. I examined its tracks, but I can’t find any sign of its front
paws. So how does it run on all fours?
Also, I decided to call the only person that I know I can trust right now,
James, my former driver. Remember him? I told him about my “troubles”
and he did relate to me a few strange stories he had heard about creatures
called “loup-garoux.” He had read a few journal entries by French fur
traders operating in northern Michigan during colonial times. “Loup-
garoux” is French for “werewolf.” James had also been in Wisconsin not
too long ago. While he was there, he heard an old folktale about a creature
called “the Dogman.” He described to me what he overheard, and it sounds
a lot like what’s happening here, but mine seems extremely aggressive.
To be honest, I’m scared. Really scared. You said you were religious,
right? I never have been, but there are no atheists in foxholes. I’m ready to
start believing in some of that good stuff. So will you pray for me? I could
use the help, and I don’t know who else could help me. You’re in Texas,
James is across country, and I don’t feel like Walks-As-Bear is very
confrontational. So I may need some otherworldly help.
R.
Subject: RE: Encounter
Date: 15 July 2000
Dear Kelly,
I know it’s been a while since we’ve talked. I don’t think you replied to
my last message, but I need to tell someone this.
I was real scared to go outside the day after I had my encounter, but I
had to take care of my animals, so I went out packing heat. I carried my
shotgun, my Marlin, and my 1911 armed with hollow points. I decided to
take care of my daily work and not go looking for the Dogman. The entire
day was real quiet; I never got the feeling I was being watched and nothing
seemed out of the ordinary. But then, dusk fell.
As I was cleaning up and getting ready to go in the house for the day, I
saw a darkened figure approach from the horizon. It was tall, barrel chested,
and on two legs. When it got up to my fence, it leapt over it. Not like an
animal or dog would bound over, but like a man would: it placed one hand
on the closest post, jumped, and angled its body to clear the wires. It then
ran off to my right. I saw it, plain as day. It was brown, just like the first
time I saw the creature.
I shouted at it at the top of my lungs. I don’t know why. Maybe it was
anger, fright, or a challenge. Well, it heard me, and it saw me. Before I
knew what I was doing, I started to run at it and I lifted my Marlin. The
creature dropped to all fours and ran from me. I stopped running and started
shooting. I missed every shot as I followed it around the property.
It stopped to hide behind the barn. It was closed and locked up, so it
wouldn’t be able to hurt Bill or Buckshot. I reloaded the Marlin and stalked
toward the back of the barn. I shot a warning shot across the corner of the
barn and I heard something run. I ran to catch up with it and as I cleared the
corner, I saw two back legs and possibly a tail. I chased it and shot after it.
It ran away from me at great speed. These things can really book, which
made me wonder why it didn’t catch me the night before.
I chased it toward the thicket and before it got there, it turned back to
look at me—I saw those strange black eyes.
Once it took cover in the wood, I thought to myself, “I’ve got you now,
you son of a bitch! This Marlin’s long, tall Sally; she’s got everything Uncle
Rawlin needs! I’m going to have me some fun tonight.” But then, a great,
shaggy, black wolfish head appeared out of the thicket. It had yellow eyes.
Oh, fuck! There were two of them! And this one was mad. It growled at me
intensely and I got that sick feeling I had gotten before. It went to rise out of
the bush, but I remembered my gun and started firing at it. No wonder the
black-eyed one ran from me—it had been a different beast. This must have
been the one that “harrumphed” at me. No wonder it was mad—it wanted
revenge.
But as I emptied my Marlin at it, it submerged back into the bush. I
backpedaled as fast as I could. I was out of ammo for the Marlin. So I
dropped it and drew my 1911. I backed into my cattle herd but kept my gun
aimed at the bush. Nothing dared to reappear.
But then I heard a yelp followed by a few warning moos and then my
cattle began to stampede. I looked toward the source of the noise but
couldn’t see anything.
I wanted to check out the yelp, but I had to get clear of the stampede. As
I did so, I heard several barks and snarls among the herd. There was another
yelp on the other side of the stampede.
I took my 1911 and fired into the stampede. I was mad, both angry and
crazy. The little .45 ACP rounds had no effect on the cattle. When I emptied
the mag, I quickly loaded another. Just as I did so, I turned back toward the
thicket and saw two wedge shapes just barely over the field of green. I fired
my pistol at them and they quickly ducked back down. If they had been
hiding this whole time, then what had started the stampede? What made my
dogs yelp? I guessed, but I hoped like hell I was wrong.
The stampede continued past me and headed for the fence. I reckoned
the stampede would most likely break through it. If not, who knows where
they would go next. I kept backing toward the house, surveying the area. I
needed to get back under that barrier. But as I was backing up, I tripped
over something. When I hit the ground, I dropped my gun and saw the
blonde, bloody mass that was Duke. He had been trampled. I turned to look
away only to lay eyes on Spike—he was lying on his side and his throat had
been ripped out. I couldn’t stop the tears from coming. I didn’t know where
Lady was, and I didn’t care. Barrier or no, I knew I was going to die.
It’s been so long since I last cried that it felt weird, like I wasn’t doing it
right. I sobbed heavily and wailed like a banshee. I made sure those things
know how distressed I was. When suddenly I heard a familiar barking. I
looked back at the house and saw Lady tearing around the corner as fast as
she could. She ran to my side and huddled as close to me as possible.
Seeing her alive awakened something in me. I don’t know what it was, but I
was determined to keep living.
I stood up and swung my shotgun forward. I looked around while
clearing my eyes. I didn’t see anything coming toward me, but I fired a shot
toward the thicket just in case. I kept one hand on my gun and the other on
Lady’s collar, and I trudged off to the front of the house. It’s true, I was
running away, but dammit I was going to live!
As I turned the corner around my house, my security light went on in the
front, and standing right there in front of me was a wide, grey, shaggy chest.
I lifted my gaze and looked right up into the face of the third of these
creatures. It was grinning at me. It had a shit-eating grin! And in those
burning orange eyes, I saw the intelligence I had seen in a wolf’s so long
ago. But this intelligence was refined—it was sharper and cynical, like
staring into the eyes of a man—a man who has just lost his mind.
Lady tried to shrink into me and whimpered. The Dogman took notice of
her and seemed to reach down for her. I stuck the shotgun barrel into its
chest and said, “No!” It looked back at me and simply grabbed onto the
shotgun barrel—it had hands!
A voice in my head said, “You can’t hurt us.” Then I realized that this
was the one that had chased me the previous night. This was the one that
had “harrumphed.” My mouth dropped and he nodded. It was slight, but it
was a nod. Then I fully grasped the situation—the damn thing was inside
the barrier! How?! The voice replied, “Confused?” Damn straight I was!
Just then, I heard footsteps from behind me. I pulled away from the beast
and circled around him toward my truck. He did nothing except watch me
and smile. It was dark now and the security light lit him up as plain as day.
His smile was truly unnerving. Chills never stopped shooting up my back.
I got to the truck and let Lady in. I then circled around to the driver’s
side, but before I got in, I stopped and asked aloud, “What the fuck are
you?”
“The Dogman.” He was fucking with me.
I finally got in my truck and started it up. As I shifted into reverse and
prepared to leave, I saw his hand twitch and had a horrible sensation it
wanted to wave “good-bye” to me. That was it for me. I gunned it and
drove away.
I haven’t been back to the house since, and according to my neighbors,
who agreed to check it out for me, they said it looks like a pack of wolves
has ravaged the area. Most of my cattle, goats, and chickens are either dead
or missing. Bill and Buckshot were still alive, but malnourished from
having been in the barn so long. They did identify scratch marks on the barn
doors, though. They also found the skeletons of a couple of dogs on the
property.
But my neighbors got what I really needed and wanted from the house:
some money, important documents, and a couple of gnawed firearms. I
gave my horses to them and told them to never go back to the farm.
I don’t know what the Dogmen wanted with that land, but they can have
it. At least I now know why the last owner wanted to get rid of it so badly
and why Lady knew the creatures from before. At least she escaped this
time. Doesn’t explain though why they were absent for so long or why they
seem to have suddenly disappeared again. Was I too aggressive with them?
Is that why they hit me so hard?
I don’t want to think about it anymore, but I feel like I’ve been marked.
Any time I go outside, I get that eerie being-watched feeling. And most
dogs look at me and Lady funny. I really wish this hadn’t happened to me.
I’m sure you don’t believe me, but I hope you do. And I really hope to
hear from you again. I guess we’ll have to wait and see. But going into the
woods for our first date is definitely out of the question.
Sincerely,
Rawlin Jones
Are you sure you want to delete this message?

Yes No
The Serpent
Day 1
The village of Ontonagon settled on either side of the river that bore its
namesake. Its inhabitants were only beginning to wake up and carry out the
mundane tasks of small town living while an expedition was getting
underway at the local docks.
A group of men, six strong, were preparing a boat on the shimmering
waters of Lake Superior for a three-day search of the fathomless depths for
a rare and unique phenomenon. To search for this phenomenon, they loaded
some unique equipment including scuba gear, a sonar, various cameras
including an underwater camera, a couple of long wooden chests, and a
hydrophone.
At that time, a seventh man approached the dock from Ontonagon,
holding a cheap, gas station coffee and wearing sunglasses to hide the
disappointment in his new surroundings.
“Ah! Dr. Dorian, I presume!”
“Mr. Burke?” replied Dorian to a bearded and slightly overweight
middle-aged man.
“Correct, sir!” he said, shaking Dorian’s hand. “When did you get in?”
“Last night. Geez, that’s a small airport.”
“Ontonagon is a small town,” said a third man with a slender and
scrappy build. “We’re lucky to have an airport.”
“Dr. Dorian,” said Burke, “this upstanding fellow here is Michael Hicks,
our historian.”
“Welcome to the expedition,” said Hicks.
“Pleasure,” said Dorian, sipping his coffee.
“Let me introduce you to the rest of our crew,” said Burke.
Dorian followed Burke aboard a well-worn fishing boat called the
Ripley. Despite its appearance, the hull and deck all seemed to be
structurally intact. The cockpit was a little larger than necessary and the
flying bridge had been redone and updated at some point. It’s clean, plastic
renovations didn’t match the wooden frame of the Ripley.
“These are our two technicians,” said Burke. “This is William Gorman,
our sonar man, and Bill Hudson who’ll be handling the underwater camera
and hydrophone.”
Gorman was a slender man with a no-nonsense air and short hair.
Hudson however was a little pasty and unimpressive with a round face.
“Tell me, something, Mr. Gorman,” began Dorian, “do you know how to
work a sonar?”
“Do you think four years of active duty in the Navy is enough?”
“Oh? Yeah, that’s impressive. And Mr. Hudson—”
“Hudson’s fine, Dorian.”
“Doctor Dorian, if you please. I didn’t get a Ph.D. for fun, you know.”
“Then why did you get it, Doctor Dorian?”
“Because I like fish and junk.”
“You a marine biologist or something?”
“Close. I’m actually a marine zoologist. Marine biology covers both
plants and animals, whereas I specialize in animals only.”
“Oh, good. We could use a man like you on this team.”
“So I’ve heard. Anyway, Hudson, do you have a lot of experience
handling underwater cameras and hydrophones?”
“I did an internship at NOAA.”
Dorian raised his eyebrows. “The National Oceanic and Atmospheric
Administration? Damn. This crew is a little more technical than I thought it
would be. I just expected a bunch of Michigan bumpkins.”
“Present,” said a man from the corner of the cockpit. He looked to be in
his sixties and wore a fishing vest and hat. He was slicing up fish and
dropping the parts into a giant barrel before him.
“What?”
“I’m a Michigan bumpkin.”
“This is Lance Fox,” explained Burke. “He’s our Lake Superior expert
and a local fisherman.”
“Mr. Fox,” said Dorian, regarding him.
“Lance is fine.”
“Why are you slicing up fish, Lance? Will we be chumming the waters?”
“You never know.”
Dorian frowned.
“And finally,” began Burke, “the skipper of our ship is Bobby Quint.”
“Robert,” corrected a man from atop the flying bridge. He appeared to be
in his fifties with bushy mutton chops and a mustache. He had a hard face
and wore a fishing jacket similar to Lance’s vest. “And don’t call me
skipper. Or Robert. Just Quint. But if you call me Quinty, I’ll be throwing
you overboard. And there’s no need to call me Captain unless you intend on
permanently joining my crew.”
“I think I’ll stick with Quint,” said Dorian.
“Good man. And who are you?”
“Gentlemen,” said Burke, “this is the renowned marine zoologist, Dr.
Christopher Dorian.”
The others were quiet.
“Never heard of him,” said Quint.
“Well, if you lived in Miami, you would,” replied Dorian.
“Don’t get snarky with me, Dorian. I don’t care who you were in the
world. You slip up out here and you’ll be tossed overboard. This ain’t
Miami.”
“Obviously...”
“What’s a ‘renowned’ marine zoologist doing in Michigan?” asked
Hicks.
“I asked him to join us,” said Burke. “It took some convincing, but I’m
sure he’ll be perfect!”
“Burke assured me this would be the crowning achievement of my
career,” said Dorian.
Hicks laughed.
“I know how you feel.”
But then Burke said, “Oh, come, come, gentlemen. This is an
extraordinary adventure. As far as we all know, we are the first ones to ever
launch a scientific expedition in search of the elusive Superior Serpent!”
“Basically, Lake Superior’s Loch Ness monster,” quipped Quint.
“In a matter of speaking.”
“Oh, geez,” mumbled Dorian. He looked at his coffee. “I wish this was
scotch.”
“And that’s why you’re here?” said Hicks to Dorian. “You really believe
that this will be the ‘crowning achievement’ of your career?”
Dorian shrugged. “It could be. What are you doing here?”
“I’m a historian. I know the shores of Lake Superior, its history, and its
legends like the back of my ass.”
“As for me,” began Hudson, “this ain’t my first sea monster hunt, man.”
“Let’s hope it’s not your last,” said Burke cheerfully.
“What about you, Gorman?” asked Dorian.
“You see all sorts of crazy shit in the military. There are plenty of things
out there that the top brass never perfectly explains. I’m going because I
want to be closer to the truth of this world.”
“Lance?”
“I grew up with stories about the Superior Serpent. I don’t think it exists
personally, but what an incredible find it would be if it did. Plus, I’d like to
know who my competition is.” Lance chuckled.
“Quint?”
“I don’t give an ass rat’s about monsters. I’m just here to steer the boat.”
“What’s your interest in all this, Burke?”
“My dear fellow, I am a cryptozoologist! It is my business to look for
weird and wacky creatures that may be unknown to science. Why, I spent
an entire year in Puerto Rico looking for el chupacabra. And then there was
my brief sojourn in Virginia digging up clues about the lizardman. My
passion is to search the world over and look for monsters!”
“You ever find any?”
Burke chuckled. “If I told you, I may have to kill you.”
“That sounds familiar,” said Gorman. “Except none of the higher-ups
ever joked about it.”
Hicks eyed Dorian.
“What?”
“Are you really just here for the career boost? I mean, if you’re so
renowned, why take the gamble on such a shitty little backwater
investigation like this? And why are you ‘renowned?’ No one here has ever
heard of you.”
“Dr. Dorian is renowned,” began Burke, “because he is slated to be one
of only a handful of people who will be working at the South Pacific
Research Facility.”
Some eyebrows rose.
“Isn’t that part of the Deep Sea Research Program?” said Lance. “The
one where they’re building research facilities on the ocean floor?”
“That’s right,” said Dorian. “The South Pacific facility will be just off
the coast of South America.”
“But they’re not supposed to be finished until 2065.”
Dorian shrugged. “That’s only five years away.”
“How’d you get that distinction?” asked Gorman.
“About a year or two ago I was part of a paleontological research team in
Chile that was looking for extinct marine reptiles. During a dig, we came
across a full fossilized skeleton of an unknown marine reptile.”
“Wait a second,” said Hudson. “I think I heard about this in the news.
There was something strange about the skeleton, wasn’t there? Like,
someone said it looked like the Biblical Leviathan?”
“Yes…” sighed Dorian. “One of the grad students said that. Anyway, it
was an unusual find because it didn’t look like anything we’ve seen before.
Dr. Cope said he thought it could be an early ancestor to the Tylosaurus. But
the reason it shook the paleontology community was because of its dragon-
like skull. It wasn’t long and narrow like a regular marine reptile’s head. It
was shorter and almost ended in an overbite like an alligator’s. And it had
several horns sticking out the back of its head.”
“I thought dragons were reptiles,” said Quint.
“Depends on who you ask,” replied Burke. “Some people consider them
to be a type of ‘serpent’ which can be a vague term for anything long and
snake-like.”
“And so finding this dragon-like marine reptile is how you secured your
position at the deep research facility?” asked Hicks.
“More or less. The investors were interested in seeing if there’s anything
alive today in that same area that has gone undiscovered. Thinking me an
expert, they supported my nomination.”
“But that’s not all!” said Burke. “You were also quoted in an interesting
article in an issue of Marine Life magazine.”
“Yeah…” said Dorian, sighing again. “In Miami, we were testing claims
that dolphins are psychic. We left children that couldn’t swim in a tank of
water. They had life jackets and we were nearby, so they weren’t in any real
danger, but they were still in distress. It was our hope that the dolphins
would save the children by pushing them to the edge of the tank where we
could grab them.
“We developed other tests—I can’t really tell you about them as I wasn’t
in charge of the experiments. Hell, I barely understood the pseudoscience
mumbo-jumbo the head researcher was throwing around. But the other tests
included testing the psychic prowess of other marine animals including
whales, certain kinds of fish, and even sharks. In some of the tests, both the
whales’ and sharks’ results were better than random.
“So, I said that in theory it’s possible that sharks are psychic. Marine
Life grabbed onto that quote and used it to headline the article. So…”
“So you’re no stranger then to marine paranormal phenomenon?” said
Gorman.
“Indeed!” said Burke. “And that’s one of the reasons why I asked him to
come with us.”
“Look,” said Dorian, “it was just a theory, and I barely believe that
dolphins are psychic. Hell, I don’t even believe in human psychics. And I
don’t believe in sea monsters.”
“But you must have some interest in the subject,” concluded Hicks.
“How so?”
“Look where you are. And by your own free will.”
Burke suddenly looked excited.
Dorian’s eyes narrowed. “Like I said, it’s for my career.”
“Uh-huh…”
“Burke!” called Quint. “Do we intend to find this super snake or what?”
“You’re so right, Quint. We must hurry.”
“Then finish packing the gear and let’s get on with it!”
Everyone except for Dorian ran around and finished loading up the boat.
When they were done, Quint started the boat’s engine and took off heading
west along the shoreline of Michigan’s Upper Peninsula.
As they went, a mountain ridge rose out of the ground back on the
mainland—there was something on top of the ridge.
“What is that?” Dorian asked. “Looks like a burnt out forest.”
“It’s a burnt out forest,” said Hicks.
“Okay… Why is it burnt out?”
Hicks looked at Lance, and they both shook their heads.
“Well?”
“It used to be the Porcupine Mountains Wilderness State Park. It caught
fire and burned down about six years ago.”
“Bummer. Shame to lose a whole state park like that.”
“You’re telling me,” said Lance. “I grew up with the Porkies. Hiking,
camping, fishing, skiing, boating. There wasn’t anything you couldn’t do in
the Porkies.”
“Had to watch out for the black bear though,” said Hicks.
“Yeah. They could be a problem. My father always carried a gun.” Lance
looked back at the forest longingly. “I’ll never forgive that bastard.”
“Your father?” said Dorian.
“No, the asshole who burned it down.”
Dorian lifted his eyebrows. “It wasn’t a natural disaster?”
“No. It was man-made.”
“I hate people.”
“Join the club,” said Hicks.
Dorian turned back to the cockpit. “So, Burke, what the hell are we
looking for?”
“The Superior Serpent!”
“No shit. But what exactly is it? What does it look like?”
“Oh! Well, there are quite a few interesting tales. About a year ago, a
woman and her daughter said they saw a big black snake-like creature
floating on top of the water. The woman estimated it to be twelve feet
long.”
“Sounds like a log to me.”
“Not so! They watched it for nearly ten minutes before it submerged
itself. In another tale, a local of Ontonagon says he saw it while bowfishing.
He said that a long, black serpent swam up to the surface, chomped down
on his catch as he was reeling it in and took it away, bow, arrow, and all! He
estimated it to be fifteen feet long and a foot wide!” said Burke with a
squeak.
“That’s… pretty big. Had he been drinking?”
“No,” said Lance. “That was Clark Lewis. He never touches the stuff.”
“The last report—”
“Is mine,” finished Hicks. “I was doing some research near the Presque
Isle River. We’re coming up on it now,” said Hicks, pointing to an
open waterway. “When suddenly a ranger, two state officials, and myself
saw this big, black serpent swimming around the mouth of the river. We
walked to the beach for a closer look and the thing surfaced. We didn’t get a
very clear look at it, but I swear to you…”
Dorian leaned in.
“It had burning red eyes.”
Dorian looked disappointed. He looked down at his coffee wishing once
again it was scotch.
“You don’t believe me.”
“Why would I? I mean, burning red eyes? On a sea creature? Have you
been watching too many movies?”
“Hardly. What’s really interesting is that the creature has its origin in
Native American myth. The Ojibwe called it the ‘misiginebig.’ It translates
to ‘great serpent,’ and was said to have horns on its head and eat humans. It
was a natural enemy of the Thunderbirds.”
“Naturally!” said Dorian. “You know those Thunderbirds. They hate
serpents swimming around the lakes and screwing in the rivers. The
Thunderbirds drink that water.”
Hicks shook his head.
As they neared the Presque Isle River mouth, Quint slowed the boat.
“Burke! We’re here.”
“Good. Hudson! Drop the hydrophone and let’s see what we can pick
up.”
Dorian furrowed his brow. “What’re we listening for? Fish don’t
typically make any noise.”
“There’s a theory,” explained Burke, “that some sea monsters use
echolocation. There’s a recording from Lake Champlain where a
sophisticated creature of some kind was definitely using echolocation.”
“Is that right?” Dorian laughed. “The stories say it’s a serpent, which
means it’s likely an eel, but damn echolocation! That would imply we’re
chasing a mammal. What the hell?”
“If you don’t like the adventure so far, you can jump out,” said Hicks.
“I’m fine, thanks.”
“Hudson!” said Burke.
“Hydrophone is in the water,” he replied, lowering a black cable over the
side. “Now, we just have to hook it up to the computer.” Hudson stepped
down into the cabin. He opened his laptop and started clacking at the
keyboard.
“The rest of you,” said Burke, “keep your eyes peeled.”
Quint took out a newspaper and started reading it.
A few hours passed and they bobbed up and down on the Superior.
“Hudson?” said Burke. “Anything?”
“So far zippo.”
“Perhaps we should try a different location.”
“Maybe, boss.”
Burke was about to tell Quint to move the boat when Lance came into
the cabin. “Hey, Burke. I don’t like the look of the sky. It’s starting to get a
little sketchy. I think a storm is moving in.”
“How much time do we have?”
Lance shrugged. “Two hours or less.”
“That’s plenty of time.”
“I don’t think—”
“Burke! Burke!”
“What is it, Hudson?!”
“Holy shit! Listen to this!”
Burke took the headphones from Hudson, and as he listened, he was torn
between a smile and perplexity.
Hicks, Gorman, and Dorian stood just outside to see what the
commotion was about.
Burke looked at Dorian. “Not a believer, eh? Well, listen to this.”
Dorian took the headphones and as the recording was played back, he
heard something very strange: it sounded like echolocation in terms of
pitch, but rather than being a series of clicks and chirps, it was long and
drawn out like a scream. It made Dorian’s skin crawl.
“Well?!” pressed Burke.
Dorian removed the headphones. “That’s… pretty interesting.”
“Could you decipher what sort of animal it was?”
Dorian snorted. “Animal? If that’s an animal, I’ve never heard anything
like it.”
“Honestly,” began Hudson, “it reminds me of the Bloop.”
“I was thinking the same thing,” said Burke. “I think we’ve got our
monster. Where did the sound originate?”
“About two miles north of here.”
“Excellent! Hudson, save this recording. Get the hydrophone out and be
prepared to drop the underwater camera. Gorman, get the sonar ready. And
the two of you, put on wetsuits just in case. I’m going to give Quint a
heading.” Burke rushed out.
“What’s the ‘Bloop?’” asked Dorian.
“It was an unidentified ultra-low-frequency and extremely powerful
underwater sound detected by NOAA in 1997,” replied Hudson. “Many
thought it sounded like icequakes or like an iceberg scraping the ocean
floor. But there were some who thought it to be a gigantic marine animal.
Far, far bigger than a blue whale.”
Dorian recoiled. “Bull shit.”
“That’s what a lot people say. NOAA eventually called it an icequake or
the result of ice calving. But there are plenty of people who still believe it
was an animal.”
Dorian raised an eyebrow and stared at Hudson. “Yeah, right. It probably
was just an icequake. And this one is probably not that different.”
“Well, that’s possible,” said Lance. “Chunks of ice could be colliding
with each other below the surface, but this past winter wasn’t all that cold.”
Dorian looked around the room. No one offered any other explanation
and Hicks was smiling smugly. So Dorian went back out to the cockpit.
A few minutes later, they arrived at the spot where the strange sound was
heard. Dorian looked over the side of the boat as if he didn’t want to see
what might be lurking in the water. “It’s amazing how clear this water is,”
he remarked.
“Lake Superior has an average visible depth of twenty-seven feet,” said
Lance. “It’s over a hundred in some spots.”
“Wow. Amazing.”
“Starting to think you majored in the wrong bodies of water?”
“No, but it is definitely eye opening. If that’s true, we should be able to
spot this monster coming.”
“We should,” agreed Lance. He cast a look up toward the sky. “But the
sky’s getting darker. And the wind’s beginning to pick up. Burke! I don’t
think we should be out here any longer than we need to be.”
“How much time would you give us?”
“Half an hour to be safe. Waves on the Superior can get up to forty feet.”
“Forty feet?!” repeated Quint. “You know, Burke, I ain’t getting hazard
pay for this job.”
“All right, all right. Hudson, Gorman; get down there and take a quick
look around. If you don’t see anything right away, pull out.”
“Hey!” said Hudson. “My father once told me the same thing.”
“What about the sonar and underwater camera?” asked Gorman.
“Go ahead and drop them in. We’ll monitor them up here.”
After Hudson and Gorman dropped the sonar and underwater camera
overboard, they finished suiting up. But just as they were about to jump off
the Ripley, Hicks jumped.
“What’s that?!” he shouted, pointing out across the lake.
Everyone rushed to the edge of the cockpit.
“Where?” said Dorian.
“There! I can see a series of four humps sticking out of the water.”
Burke took out a pair of binoculars. “Wow! Oh, boy!” he said, jumping
up and down. “Dorian, take a look at this!”
Dorian took the binoculars and looked through them. Out at an
indiscernible distance, he saw four black humps sticking out of the water by
what looked to be about two feet. They were all connected to a shadow
under the water, but it was difficult to determine how from that distance.
Dorian brought the binoculars down. The others took them from him and
took turns looking through them.
“What do you say now, Dorian?” said Burke, smiling.
“I don’t know…”
“That’s no log, huh?”
“No, it isn’t. It’s too far out. And… it’s moving.”
“Against the current no less,” said Hicks.
“Are there any fish in the lake that get that big?”
“Not that big,” said Lance. “I reckon it to be at least twenty feet in
length.”
“Twenty feet, my ass!” said Hudson. “That bastard’s thirty if he’s a foot.
I’m not going in that water.”
“Yeah, me neither,” said Gorman. “Something that big in these waters
has to be a predator.”
“So what do we do?” asked Lance.
“Quint!” shouted Burke. “Start the boat and take us in that direction.”
“You got it.”
“The sonar and underwater camera are in place, right?”
“Yep,” said Hudson.
“Go sit on them, you two.”
“Got it.”
“Damn,” said Gorman. “I got all dressed up for nothing.”
Hudson and Gorman trotted off to the cabin while Quint started the boat
and headed in the direction of the four humps.
“Hurry, Quint!” shouted Burke. “It’s harder to see than it was just a
second ago!”
“We’ve got three days to document this thing, Burke. I’m not going to
risk the souls on this vessel when we may have already seen it.”
Hicks approached Dorian. “So what do you think, now?”
“I…” A shiver went down his spine. He exhaled. “We still need to see it
up close.”
“Sure.”
The Ripley circled around and made it to the same area where they had
seen the humps and shadow. They took the same heading it seemed to have,
but they couldn’t find anything.
Burke stepped into the cabin. “Anything?”
Gorman shook his head.
“Zippo,” said Hudson.
“Damn! How could that be? It’s like it just disappeared or something.”
Lance stepped into the cabin. “Look, Burke, the sky’s getting worse. We
should really get out of here.”
Burke was silent for a minute. “All right. Pull up the sonar, but leave the
underwater camera just in case.”
“Right,” said Hudson.
About twenty minutes later, the Ripley pulled into the Ontonagon port as
lightning flashed across the sky to the west. The underwater camera hadn’t
recorded anything.
Burke debriefed them as they unloaded the boat. “Well, team, we didn’t
get much today, but what we did get was pretty interesting. So we’ll gather
back up tomorrow, same time, same channel, and get back at it! Dr. Dorian,
will you continue working with us?”
“I may as well,” said Dorian with a shrug. “My plane tickets aren’t dated
until Thursday.” Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Hicks shake his head.
“Capital! We’ll be waiting,” said Burke as a crack of thunder went off.
Day 2
The next day, there was no sun. The entire sky had been overcast and
more rain was predicted for the day and into the next. Lance advised they
shouldn’t be on the lake for very long, and Burke reluctantly agreed.
“Therefore!” began Burke, “I think it best we drop the sonar and head
back out to the same location as yesterday. Maybe we’ll see the creature
again. What do you all say?”
“So long as my vessel isn’t damaged, I don’t care,” said Quint.
Burke looked at the others. “Any objections? Dr. Dorian?”
Everyone except Burke was more than a little surprised when Dorian had
shown up. More surprising was that he was the first one at the docks that
morning. He had said that it was because he couldn’t sleep, but Lance had
joked it was Michigan’s natural wonder and mystery sinking into his bones.
“No objections,” said Dorian. “Hell, if the storm rolls in early, we might
get a half day off.”
“As true as that is,” said Burke, “please don’t say that. Remember who is
paying for this expedition.”
“Oh, sorry.”
“Quite all right. Well then, let’s shove off!”
They shipped out immediately and headed for the same spot as the day
before. They had already deployed the sonar, but not the underwater camera
as the storm had made the lake’s water murky.
Dorian sat off by himself at the back of the cockpit staring at the lake.
There was something about it that had mesmerized him. He hadn’t always
had an affection for the water, but there was just something to Lake
Superior that he couldn’t explain. He had felt called to it unlike any other
body of water in the world.
“So,” said Hicks, “had a change of heart?”
“About what?”
“About the whole venture.”
Dorian shrugged. “Science needs a body.”
Hicks smirked. “Science? Or you?”
Dorian eyed Hicks but said nothing.
“Heh. Even with the echolocation and the sighting, you still deny it.”
“That wasn’t echolocation. And even with the sighting, it may not be as
big as we originally thought. We don’t know for sure how far away it was.”
“Uh-huh… So what’s the real reason you were here first this morning?”
“Like I said, I couldn’t sleep. Strange place and all that.”
“Right…” Hicks walked away.
In truth, Dorian hadn’t been able to sleep, but that was because he had
been thinking about the echolocation recording all night. He had listened to
multiple samples of echolocation from known animals and couldn’t finger
any of them as the source. He exhausted the Internet in his search for
answers even turning to recordings of ice quakes and the mysterious Bloop.
It was true, the recording from the previous day and the Bloop were similar,
but they were still off. The Bloop was far creepier and vaguer, like the
bellowing of a giant monster. The recording they had was a single elongated
note that sounded like a scream.
The research kept Dorian up all night. When the sun had risen, he had
gone out to the beach actually hoping to get an answer. If Hicks could have
an up close sighting, why not him? But there were no sightings for him—
just an unsettling feeling that something was calling out to him. And in a
truly rare moment, he decided to heed that call.
They were closing in on the same spot they had been in when Hudson
shouted, “Holy shit!”
Everyone except Quint went running to the cabin.
“What is it?!” said Burke.
“The sonar just picked something up! Something big, too. At least
twenty feet long!”
“Twenty feet?!”
Hudson jumped. “There it is again! We’re getting closer!”
“I have to tell Quint not to stop,” said Burke. “The rest of you, get on
deck and keep your eyes peeled.”
Hicks smiled at Dorian.
“Wipe that shit-eating grin off your face.”
Dorian ran out to the edge of the cockpit and started searching the waters
himself. But due to the storm, soil and sediment had been churned up from
the lake bed making the water impossible to see through. They weren’t
going to see anything unless it surfaced.
As they went, Hudson shouted directions from the cabin to Burke in the
cockpit up to Quint as he drove so they could stay on top of whatever they
were chasing. It kept them going in a serpentine manner farther and farther
out into the lake. The mainland had become a sliver on the horizon.
Suddenly something broke the water’s surface.
“Look at that!” shouted Gorman.
They all turned and saw a serpentine body undulate through the water. It
was swimming away from them before it circled around and swam parallel
to the Ripley.
As it came closer, everyone’s eyes widened and they slowly backed up
until their heels backed into the cockpit wall. They looked at each other
surprised and mildly embarrassed, but when they looked back at the
creature alongside the boat, so close they could almost reach out and touch
it, their fear returned.
The serpent was at least thirty feet long, longer than the Ripley, and it
was three times as massive as a man. Its black scales reflected light, and its
dorsal spines were at least three feet tall. But most of the creature was still
hidden under the water, a dark shadow betraying the true detail of the
serpent.
It outpaced the Ripley and dove back into the deep.
They edged their way back to the other side of the cockpit. They looked
at each other dumbstruck.
“Jesus!” breathed Gorman.
“We’re gonna need a bigger boat,” said Lance.
Hicks looked at Dorian. He tried to say something smart, but he was too
terrified beyond rational thought.
“Well?” said Dorian after a moment of struggling to speak.
Hicks swallowed. “Well, what?”
“You’ve seen this thing before. Was that it?”
“That’s right!” said Burke. “You’ve seen it before. Is it the same
creature?”
Hicks looked back and forth between them. “If it was, I don’t believe it!
When I saw it, it wasn’t th-th-that big!”
“That’s no serpent,” said Gorman.
“It’s a leviathan!” shouted Quint from the bridge.
“So,” said Gorman, “what do we do now?”
“Um…” stalled Burke. “Damn it! We should have had one of the
cameras ready.”
“We could chum the water to entice it to stick around,” suggested Lance.
“We might see it again.”
“You want to see it again?!” said Hicks. “Let’s get the fuck out of here!”
“Now, Hicks, calm down, man.”
“Calm down?! Are you joking? Did you see the same black bastard we
did?!”
“Yes. And I admit… it is much larger than expected. But we still have a
job to do.”
Hicks looked at Gorman and Lance for help. They both shrugged.
“You’ve got to be kidding me!” shouted Hicks. Suddenly he felt a smart
slap across his face. He looked at Dorian.
“Pull yourself together, man. It hasn’t shown any aggressive behavior
toward us. And besides, land is so far away, if we did start heading for
shore, you’d have calmed down long before we got there and feel pretty
damn embarrassed. So get your shit together.”
Hicks took a few deep breaths. After a while, he nodded and said,
“You’re right. I’m okay. I’m okay.”
“Good,” said Burke. “Quint! Stop the boat! Lance, go ahead and chum
the waters. Hudson, stay on the sonar and let us know when it gets near.
The rest of you, grab a camera of some sort and be on guard.”
“Before we do that, Burke,” said Lance, “I think I should let you know
that our window of safe operation is getting smaller and smaller all the
time. Thunderstorms were predicted for today.”
“Yes, I know. But… can we outrun the storm?”
Lance shrugged. “Depends on which direction it comes from. If it comes
from the west, maybe. If it comes from the south, hell no. We’ll be traveling
into it unless we want to go to Canada.”
“How long do you reckon?”
Lance looked at the sky. “Honestly, with this much cloud cover, it’s hard
to say.”
“Well, we’re expecting thunderstorms, right?” said Dorian.
Everyone looked at him.
“Just watch the horizon for lightning. When we see some, we’ll move.
And remember to count until you hear the thunder. Every five seconds is a
mile.”
“That’s the second time today you’ve surprised us,” said Burke.
“Yeah, what’s going on?” asked Hicks. “You keep doing that and we’re
going to think you actually care.”
Dorian rolled his eyes. “Burke, even if we do capture this thing on film,
what’s the next move?”
“I’m glad you asked.” Burke went over to one of the chests they had
loaded onboard. He opened it and took out a five foot long steel rod with a
trigger on one end and a steel tip at the other that was eight inches long.
“You intend on tagging it?”
“That’s right. We need to be able to find it again so we can prove its
existence to the scientific community.” Burke handed the gun to Dorian.
“Well, I understand that, but you do realize that this tagging gun is a
little inhumane, right? I mean, sharks don’t have any pain receptors in their
fins and we use tags with suction cups on whales. This will likely hurt the
serpent.”
Burke frowned. “I know. But the budget doesn’t allow for us to lasso that
thing aboard and find a way of tagging it humanely. I was hoping not to use
this, but it’s semi-permanent and you won’t miss something that large.”
Dorian sighed. “Alright…”
They got to their assigned duties with Lance throwing fish chunks into
the water, Hudson staying on the sonar while Burke, Gorman, and Hicks all
operated video cameras watching the left, rear, and right of the boat waiting
for the creature. Dorian sat on the edge of the cockpit with the tagging gun
in his hands while Quint watched for the storm and manned the radio
listening to storm warnings as they rolled in.
Over a period of an hour, every so many minutes, Hudson would shout
from the cabin that something was closing in. Whoever’s side of the Ripley
the creature was coming from, that man would lift his camera and be at the
ready, but they never saw anything. Not even a shadow.
As time wore on and the sky got darker, the whole phenomenon started
to tear at Dorian. The constant waiting wore on his patience and made him
tenser and tenser. He tried to sit on the edge of the cockpit and look casual,
but he wasn’t very convincing. His posture was stiff, and he looked like he
might jump up at any moment.
But besides his aching muscles, there were other things bothering him.
For one, he constantly felt like he was being watched. At one point, he did
jump up and turn around as quickly as he could only to see nothing but
water. Several times, he thought he saw a gigantic shadow beneath the
water. The waves did seem to swell as if something had been swimming
rapidly and then suddenly stopped. There were also tiny eddies in the
surface where Dorian thought the serpent’s mouth was as if the creature was
sucking in water.
Dorian tried to convince himself that it was just his mind playing tricks
on him as he also thought he could hear a constant dull thumping and what
sounded like chanting, but every time he looked around to figure out where
the sound was coming from, it would disappear.
Dorian’s strange behavior didn’t go unnoticed. Both Hicks and Lance
picked up on it. Hicks tried to approach Dorian once before, but Lance
shook his head when he did so. But after the fourth or fifth time Dorian
looked around to find the source of the chanting, Hicks approached.
“What the hell is going on with you?” he whispered.
Dorian looked at him in a panic. “What?”
“Don’t give me that. You told me to pull together, and now you’re losing
your shit? Seriously, what the hell is up with you?”
“Do you hear… drums?”
“Drums?”
“Or chanting?”
Hicks looked at Lance—he was just as confused.
“We’re in the middle of a lake—how could you hear anything way out
here?
“I… I don’t know.” Dorian shook his head.
Hicks cocked his head to one side annoyed. He opened his mouth to give
Dorian a piece of his mind when suddenly a loud thud came from the
bottom of the boat and it shook violently. Everyone was thrown off balance
and stumbled or fell.
“What the hell was that?” shouted Quint.
“We hit something,” said Burke.
“Are you joking, Burke? We ain’t moving! Something hit us.”
“Like what?” said Gorman, standing. “What could have possibly hit us
hard enough to shake the boat like that?!”
“The creature!” said Burke.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” said Lance. “No animal would hit us on purpose.
Besides, Hudson would’ve called it out before it hit us. Right, Hudson?”
Hudson came out of the cabin looking sheepish. “Um, well…”
“What the hell do you mean by that?!” said Quint.
“Well, the sonar did pick something up, but I couldn’t figure out what
direction it was coming from. I only realized it just before we were hit.”
“Realized what?” said Burke.
“It came at us from below. I’ve never seen that before! But it’s worse
than all that, man. After we were hit, I checked the computer and
something’s wrong with the sonar.”
“What do you mean something’s wrong?” said Gorman.
“Something’s wrong, man. It just stopped working or some shit. I don’t
know!”
Gorman looked around at everyone else. “It better not be broken! That
damn thing wasn’t cheap!”
Gorman ran to the rear of the Ripley and pulled up the sonar. He turned
slowly, holding the sonar so the rest could see it. “What the fuck?!”
The sonar looked as if something had bit into it and tried to crush it.
There were indentions in it that had to have been made by very sharp teeth.
And one side of it was dented inward as if something had hit it with great
force.
Hicks stepped up. “Looks like the thing grabbed hold of it and purposely
crashed into the bottom of the boat with it.”
Dorian began to sweat as he felt an oppressive presence swirl around
them.
Gorman was at a loss. “Wha—How in the—I mean… for fuck sake!”
“Do you think it did it on purpose?” asked Lance.
The others looked at him very slowly.
“What do you mean on purpose?!” shouted Gorman. “It’s just a fucking
animal! It doesn’t know what this thing is.”
Hicks scratched the back of his head. “So, what do we do now, Burke?”
Burke stared at the floor of the cockpit. “I’ve no idea.”
Thunder rumbled out to the southwest.
“Well, I guess there’s your answer for you, boys,” said Quint. “Time to
head back to port. I hope we can make it,” he mumbled to himself.
The others looked at each other and couldn’t believe what had just
happened. Dorian, despite the cool breeze, was sweating profusely.
Nightmare
The Ripley made it back to port with no problems. They unloaded the
gear in silence as Quint went around and attempted a preliminary check of
the Ripley’s hull. Nothing seemed damaged.
“All right, men,” said Burke a little uneasily. “I know today was strange,
but we definitely experienced something.”
“You could say that again,” said Hicks.
“But we all saw the creature!”
“So what if we all saw it?” retorted Hicks.
“So what? Well, with all the high strangeness, I’m quite positive we’ll
get video tomorrow and be able to tag it.”
Burke looked at them all in turn—they didn’t look enthused and some
were ashen-faced.
A crack of thunder went off nearby.
“Well, I guess we’re finished for today.”
Gorman and Hudson stayed behind to talk to Burke about how they
would handle the last day of their expedition and what they would do if any
more of their equipment got damaged.
Dorian started to walk off the dock, but Hicks and Lance caught up with
him.
“Hey, Dorian,” said Hicks. “Lance and I were going to go into town and
get a beer. Why don’t you join us?”
“I don’t feel like it.”
“Come on,” said Lance. “We’re going to talk about everything that’s
happened so far.”
“What’s the point? What do you think you’ll figure out by doing so?”
Lance shrugged. “We don’t know.”
“But we could use an extra head in the discussion,” said Hicks. “You’re
a marine zoologist—perhaps you could enlighten us.”
“Sorry. But I can’t think of any marine animal that runs into boats for
fun. And besides… after today’s sighting, I don’t know what the hell it is
we’re dealing with.” Dorian walked away faster.
Hicks ran in front of him. “Damn it, Dorian! You know something! What
is it?”
Dorian looked at him sharply. “I don’t know anything.”
“But you sense something,” said Lance.
Dorian looked back over his shoulder.
“A-ha! So you do. Your intuition is telling you something.”
Dorian was quiet for a few seconds. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told
you.”
“Try me.”
In a low voice, Dorian said, “Whatever’s out there, it’s not an animal.
We could all be in grave danger.” He walked immediately back to his motel
room despite calls from Hicks and Lance.
Dorian sat on his bed and tried to sort out his thoughts. Why was it that
he thought he knew where the creature was? What was the distant chanting
and thumping? And why was there such a focus on him? He felt like the
creature was looking at him, its eyes piercing his head and penetrating his
mind.
The more he thought about it, the more he sensed a connection between
himself and the creature. It was calling out to him. It wanted him. But why?
Was he going to die?
Dorian tried to push all the thoughts away. He was exhausted. He hadn’t
slept the night before and thought that if he could get a good night’s rest,
then maybe things would start making sense again.
He went to the local pharmacy and purchased some over-the-counter
sleep medication, and on his way back, he stopped at a liquor store. The
directions on the sleep aides said not to mix them with alcohol, but he was
desperate for some relief. Every time he looked at the lake, he became
unnerved. In his mind’s eye, he saw it as a great abyss with a core of evil
that called out to him, and every second he ignored the call, his insides tore
and screamed at him as if it was his destiny.
He made it back to his motel without incident and took one more
sleeping pill than needed and chased it down with two shots of whiskey. He
lay on his bed and without realizing it, he slipped into a deep sleep.
But sleep brought no respite.
Dorian kept seeing the creature again and again, hearing its scream and
feeling its gaze. The uneasiness he felt all day was constantly with him.
And to make matters worse, he felt as if he was right on the cusp of
understanding why.
The dreams disappeared and all was dark, but Dorian was in an abyss.
The creeping feeling of something calling out to him, watching him, and
waiting for him never went away.
A new image grew in his mind like the lights being brought up on a
stage. He was in a lush, dense forest. He turned to his side and saw a Native
American. The native looked at him, but didn’t say anything. The native
then turned back. Dorian looked in the direction the Native American was
looking and the forest was suddenly aflame.
Dorian panicked as he felt the intense heat burn his flesh, and he rushed
to escape. He managed to escape the forest, but now he faced an even more
terrifying sight. He saw a man with a crazed visage looking up at a Native
American woman as she dangled from a tree limb, lynched. A torch lay by
the man’s side as did the bodies of five more Native Americans all killed in
horrific ways. They were covered in blood, skinned, mutilated, disfigured,
lynched, and scalped. The crazed man cut the lynched woman from the tree
with an axe before dashing into the burning forest.
As Dorian looked over the bodies of the slain, he heard Native American
chanting. It grew louder until it was insufferable. Dorian tried to shield his
ears, but that didn’t work. He writhed on the ground desperate for the
chanting to stop.
Suddenly a black mist came from the mouths of the dead. It went out
over the nearby lake and condensed into a single form. Dorian looked on
horrified as it took on a serpentine figure in a shadowy form he had seen
before.
The landscape faded away and now Dorian was floating below the lake’s
surface tinted red and littered with burned and mutilated corpses. Beyond
them all was still the form of the serpent. It grew as more black mist from
more dead joined it. It began to take definite form as scales developed, a
long tail, dozens of curved, pointed spines, and a dragon’s head. The last
thing that came to be was its eyes and as they developed, they burned red.
Then there was just the serpent and Dorian, but the chanting continued.
As the eyes continued to burn, Dorian felt the vengeful cries of more than a
dozen spirits all at once. The serpent lunged for him and Dorian screamed.
He awoke covered in sweat. He looked around the room forgetting
where he had been and not recognizing anything immediately. It took him a
while, but eventually, he was able to settle down. A flash of lightning and
crack of thunder went off outside as rain pounded his room’s windows. He
lay back down and slapped his forehead. What had he just seen? What did it
mean?
Dorian turned on his side and closed his eyes for a second. But then they
shot open. The image of the serpent had been burned into his mind. He
didn’t want to go back to sleep. He couldn’t. The creature might be there
waiting for him again.
Dorian didn’t sleep the rest of the night and seriously considered leaving.
But as the sun rose, determination came over him. He remembered that
once upon a time he was afraid of the water. The great leviathans within it
as well as the blackening deep terrified him. It had been his girlfriend who
had told him that he couldn’t live his life in fear. She had gotten him into
marine zoology. He had gone to school with her and she had shown him the
great majesty of the sea. She wouldn’t be afraid of the Superior Serpent,
and using the lessons she taught him, Dorian knew he just needed to
familiarize himself with it.
Dorian decided he would study the serpent until it no longer harbored
any secrets from him. And when that happened, he would no longer fear it.
Day 3
Dorian was again the first out on the dock, but not the first one on the
boat. He found Quint munching a piece of toast and drinking a black coffee.
“Doctor,” said Quint.
“Quint. What’re you doing out here so early?”
“So late, you mean.”
“What’s that?”
“I’ve been up all night checking the boat. Everything seems fine, though.
She’s still floating. But to be honest, I’m not eager to get back out there. I
don’t know what this super snake is, but I don’t want it messing with me if I
can avoid it.”
“I understand your trepidation.”
Quint looked at him suspiciously. “But…?”
Dorian shook his head. “Nothing.”
Quint grunted.
Burke was the next to show up. “Ah, Quint! Is the Ripley seaworthy?”
“As far as I can tell. But I don’t want to push it today if we can avoid it.”
“I understand. And Dorian!” But then Burke paused.
“What?”
“You look awful, man. Are you starting to crack under the pressure,
too?”
“‘Too?’”
“The others came to see me last night and tried to convince me to call off
the search. Hicks and Hudson were quite agitated. They threatened not to
show up today. Gorman on the other hand is looking to get even.”
“And Lance?”
“He seemed uncomfortable, but he didn’t say anything. So, are you
feeling up to this?”
“Well, I didn’t sleep well, but believe it or not, I want to find this thing.”
Quint looked up. “What?”
“I think you’re right, Burke. I think it could be the highlight of my
career.”
“Have you gone insane?!”
Dorian and Burke turned to see Hicks, Hudson, Gorman, and Lance.
“No. I’m quite sane. What about you, Hicks? I thought you weren’t
going to show up?”
“I came here to tell Burke I quit!”
“Me, too, man,” said Hudson. “Game over.”
“What made you change your mind, Dorian?! Two days ago you didn’t
believe in this thing. Now you want to find it. Make it the crowning
achievement of your career?! Are you insane?!”
“Like I said, no. I had an epiphany. Once upon a time I was afraid of the
abyss and everything in it. But my girlfriend showed me I had nothing to
fear. I got over my fear when she showed me what was actually beneath the
waves. I familiarized myself with the sea life, with the waters, and how to
survive them. When I did that, I became a master of them, and I mastered
my fears. And so, I want to find whatever the hell this thing is and study the
hell out of it until it has no more secrets to hide. Monsters can’t be scary if
you know them.”
The others were quiet for a second.
“Hell yeah!” burst Gorman. “I’m with Dorian! Let’s find this thing and
study the fuck out of it! And tear out its heart while we’re at it.”
Lance stepped forward. “I can definitely appreciate your perspective,
Dorian. But what if we can’t find it again? Or what if things turn on us?”
Dorian shrugged. “Then don’t go. We’ll continue on without you.”
Lance looked at the sky. It was still cloudy and more storms were
predicted for the day. “Against my better judgment, I think I should join
you. If you and Burke are that excited to document this thing, someone
needs to be the voice of reason when things get too dangerous.”
Dorian looked at Hicks and Hudson. “Well?”
Hicks shook his head.
Hudson said, “Hell no, man.”
“You don’t want to be our other voices of reason?”
“What do you mean?” said Hicks.
“You don’t want to be there to hand me and Burke a big bag of I-told-
you-so’s when things go wrong? Or even to stop us from getting ourselves
killed?”
“Seems like a raw deal to me.”
Dorian looked at them all for a second. “Quint? What’s your take?”
“Like I told you, Dorian, I want to avoid any unnecessary risks.”
“But you’re willing to go?”
“Shit, this is what I’m getting paid for, isn’t it?”
“Well then, if my calculations are correct, that means that three of us
want to find this thing, one doesn’t care, and three don’t. But if while we’re
out on the open water and we put it to a vote, Quint and Lance will be
outvoted by me, Burke, and Gorman. If you two come along, there’ll be a
majority to override us. So why not come along to make sure that Lance
and Quint don’t get harmed because we’re so damn stubborn?”
Hicks sighed heavily. “Burke, can you promise that we’ll go about this
democratically from here on out?”
“I really don’t have a choice. Without Hudson, we’re down a
hydrophone, an underwater camera, and a diver. And even if you don’t
actively help, Hicks, your aid would be greatly appreciated. I don’t think we
could go about this with just the five of us.”
Hicks looked at Hudson. “What do you say?”
“I don’t know, man… What are the chances of us finding this thing
again?”
Dorian and Burke looked at each other.
“Seems like it’s looking for us,” said Dorian. “So I’d say pretty damn
good.”
“And it’ll make us rich?”
Burke shrugged. “It could.”
“Alright, man. I’ll do it.”
“Fantastic! Let’s get ready to launch!”
Hicks and Hudson stepped onto the boat.
“So,” said Hicks to Dorian, “your girlfriend got you into marine
zoology.”
“Yeah.”
“What’s her name?”
“Cordelia. But I called her ‘Sweet Cheeks.’ And I wasn’t talking about
the ones on her face.”
Hicks chuckled. “Wait, ‘called?’ You broke up?”
Dorian sighed. “The sea decided it wanted her for itself.”
“Oh. Bummer.”
“Yeah…”
After they got all their gear loaded, they set out immediately. Hudson
dropped a camera beneath the water and manned the computer while Quint
drove back out to where they had been the day before.
They were barely on the water fifteen minutes before Hudson started
screaming. “Holy shit!”
They all ran to the cabin.
“Something just swam by the camera! I couldn’t make it out too well
because the water’s so murky, but it looked long and black.”
“Just as long as the creature yesterday?” asked Burke.
“Oh, yeah, man.”
“Just like you said,” said Hicks. “It found us.”
“Yeah,” Dorian replied.
“Which direction did it go?” asked Burke.
“North. The same direction we’re going.”
“Great. I’ll tell Quint.” Burke left.
“I’ll get my wetsuit on,” said Gorman.
Everyone looked at him.
“I’m getting revenge for my sonar.” He flashed them a hunting knife
hidden under his shirt. It had an eight inch blade and a serrated back.
Hicks looked at Dorian. “Are you going to stop him?”
“I just want to study the damn thing… which would be easier if it’s
dead.”
“Not interested in persevering it?”
“Hell no. If it’s dangerous, then the fewer of these things there are, the
better.”
“Now you’re speaking my language,” said Gorman.
They continued farther out into the lake until Lance warned they really
shouldn’t go any farther unless they wanted to tempt the fates. Burke agreed
and Quint stopped the boat. Hudson stayed on the camera best he could
while changing into his scuba gear. It had taken some convincing, and
Gorman had to offer him a second hunting knife, but Hudson finally agreed
to go.
Hudson finished putting on his wetsuit when he caught another glimpse
of the creature. “It’s here!” he shouted.
“Excellent!” said Burke from the cockpit with a camera.
“Excellent,” replied Gorman, checking his knife.
“Are you ready, Gorman?”
“I’m all set.”
“Hudson?”
“Almost. But I gotta be honest, I’m still nervous, man.”
“Don’t worry,” said Quint. He opened the other chest in the cockpit and
pulled out a harpoon gun and an M1 Garand. “I’ve got back up.”
Burke looked nervous. “I hope those won’t be necessary. We want to
study the creature. Don’t we, Dr. Dorian?”
“Sure do,” said Dorian. “But like I said earlier, things are easier to study
when they’re dead.” Dorian put the tagging gun down and took the M1
from Quint.
Gorman and Hudson finished putting on their and jumped into the lake.
“Right,” said Burke, handing Hudson a waterproof camera. “Get what
evidence you can.”
“In water this murky, I don’t know what we’ll get.”
“We’ll get something,” said Gorman. “Tonight, we dine on Superior
Serpent!”
“Fuck yeah!” said Hicks.
“I love your enthusiasm,” said Burke, “but I fear it’s the wrong kind.
Don’t be gone too long.”
“Right,” said Hudson. “See you soon.”
Hudson and Gorman dove down into the murky depths of the lake.
Burke had Lance man the underwater camera so they would know when the
serpent was getting close. Burke had a camera at the ready and panned the
surface of the lake. Quint and Dorian stood on opposite ends of the cockpit
looking out into the lake with the harpoon gun and M1 pointed at the water.
Hicks had taken over the tagging gun.
Time passed and nothing happened. Hicks looked at his watch. “How
long have they been down there?”
Burke looked up. “I don’t know. Did we not give them a set time to be
up by?”
“No.”
“Oh, no.”
“Sooner or later they’ll run out of air and return to the surface,” said
Quint. “I wouldn’t worry.”
Lance came out of the cabin.
“Anything on the camera?” asked Burke.
“Nothing.” Lance looked at the sky. “It sure has gotten dark. I think we
should skedaddle as soon as Hudson and Gorman come back up.”
“Already?!” said Burke.
“The sky is looking pretty serious.”
Burke looked up. “We can push it.”
“I really wouldn’t—”
But Dorian didn’t hear anything else Lance said. For some reason, he felt
like he was underwater. Fear gripped him as he heard chanting and drums.
Suddenly there was a sharp inexplicable pain all over his body. He felt it
pierce his arms, legs, head, and body. It crushed his bones, burst his veins,
collapsed his organs, and flayed his skin. It was the worst pain he’d ever
felt.
Dorian’s nerves seized up, forcing him to shoot the M1 and drop it. His
hand shot to his head, and he stumbled backward into Hicks.
“What is it?!”
“I…” Dorian paused. His imagination ran away. He had the feeling that
someone was dead. “I… uh…” Dorian stood back up.
Hicks picked up the rifle. “You’ve been acting weird. I think I should
hang onto this.”
“That might be a good idea.” Dorian sat down. He tried to recall the
feeling of floating and the unbelievable pain, but couldn’t. How was that
possible?
Suddenly something broke the water’s surface. They all rushed to the
side of the boat.
“Gorman!” said Burke.
Gorman took off his mask. He looked around. “Where’s Hudson?”
Everyone looked anxious.
“Damn it!”
“You mean you lost him?!” said Burke.
“We got separated. A current or something shot right between us. I went
to grab him and he wasn’t there.”
Dorian began to sweat and breathe heavily.
“Should I go loo—” But Gorman started screaming.
“What is it?!” shouted Burke.
Blood flowed out of Gorman’s mouth and he was pulled under.
“Damn it all!” said Quint.
“I don’t believe it!” shouted Lance.
Hicks looked at Dorian. He was sweating profusely and his eyes were
wide.
“What do you know?!” shouted Hicks, shaking Dorian.
Dorian didn’t hear him though as he felt another wave of pain all
throughout his body and the overwhelming sense of fear that can only be
felt by a man who knows he’s going to die. The chanting and drums
returned.
“Dammit, Burke!” said Quint. “This fuckin’ monster’s a murderer!
We’re getting the hell out of here!”
“No, Quint! Wai—”
A lightning bolt flashed nearby and thunder rocked their hearing. But the
worst of it was that the lightning bolt briefly lit up what was immediately
under the water showing off the size and shape of the serpent.
“God almighty!” cursed Quint. “It’s bigger than yesterday! We’re getting
out of here!” said Quint as he began to climb up to the helm.
But the boat was hit with a great force. It was almost thrown onto its
side, throwing Lance, Burke, and Dorian overboard. The Ripley rocked
back and forth threatening to capsize. The motion threw Hicks onto the
other side of the cockpit hard enough to knock him out and Quint hurt his
arms trying to hold onto the ladder. But as the boat rested, Quint ran to the
side.
Dorian was the first one up followed by Lance.
“Where’s Burke?!”
“Don’t know!”
More fear. More pain. Dorian felt a sensation around his face as if there
was water bubbling around him that could only come from a blood-curdling
scream.
“Get out of the water!” shouted Quint.
Dorian and Lance swam for the swimming dock but something latched
onto Lance from beneath the waves. He screamed as it dragged him under
and the water turned red.
“Hurry up, Dorian!” said Quint, picking up the M1.
Dorian worked against the fear and the pain. It commanded him to
surrender, but he was determined to live. He swam with all his might as
every mental and physical nerve in his body screamed for him to stop and
die.
The chanting and drums got louder as Dorian sensed the overwhelming
impending doom. Quint started firing at it. He got several shots off and
rearmed with another clip. Dorian just made it to the boat as the serpent
reached him. The fear hit Dorian full on and he found the strength and
speed to lift himself over the cockpit wall and into the boat. He turned
around just in time to see the serpent’s open jaws clamp the air. Quint fired
the M1 and hit it in the head. A piercing note escaped the creature’s mouth.
“Did you hear that?!” said Quint, looking bewildered. “It fucking
screamed!”
“It’s the scream from the recording!” said Dorian. “Quint! Get us out of
here!”
Quint threw Dorian the gun and climbed up to the wheel.
Dorian checked on Hicks. He regained consciousness. He drowsily said,
“Where are Burke and Lance?”
Dorian shook his head.
Hicks groaned.
Quint made it up to the helm and tried to start the engine. It wouldn’t
turn over. He tried again and again.
“Quint! I don’t like those sounds!”
“No shit, Dorian!”
“Are you telling me we’re stranded?!”
“I-I don’t know!”
“Keep trying!”
Dorian looked around for a first aid kit and started wrapping Hicks’ head
in bandages. He was bleeding, but not too badly. Dorian stood up, and he
felt a chill go down his spine. He picked up the rifle, turned, and looked
around. He fired the gun but only hit a swell. He turned around and shot
another swell. It took him a few more shots to realize he was jumping at
shadows and wasn’t actually seeing anything. The sudden peace disturbed
him greatly. He expected the serpent to come through the bottom of the
Ripley any second.
Quint joined Dorian and Hicks. He had a radio with him.
“What’s the situation?” said Dorian, already knowing.
“Engine won’t start. I’ve been trying to contact the Coast Guard, but I
can’t get a signal.”
Something evil seemed pleased in Dorian’s mind.
“We’re going to die,” he said evenly.
“The hell we are,” said Quint.
“We should’ve listened to you, Hicks,” said Dorian. “I know it doesn’t
mean anything now, but… I’m sorry.”
“Keep your apology,” said Hicks bitterly. He struggled to sit up right.
“But, if I’m going to die, I have a last request: tell me what you know.”
Dorian was quiet for a few seconds. “I honestly don’t know anything.
But the creature and I seem to have a connection of some sort.”
“How’s that possible?”
“I don’t know. I just know that I can feel all the pain and fear of those it
attacks, and I can feel when it’s looking at me.”
“Is it watching you right now?”
Dorian paused. “I can’t tell.”
Hicks looked disappointed. “Is that all?”
Dorian wiped his face with his hand. “I had a dream last night. A
nightmare.”
“What about?”
There was a crack of thunder nearby. None of the men reacted.
“I saw a forest on fire. There was a man, a murderer. He killed several
Native Americans by the edge of a lake. And then, the essence of those
killed formed into a monster. A big, black sea serpent with red eyes. And
then I woke up.”
Hicks looked confused for a second. “A forest on fire, a man murdering
natives, and their essences created a sea serpent?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, I don’t know about the sea serpent, but the burning forest and
Native Americans sound familiar to me.”
“What?!”
“You remember how I told you that the Porcupine Mountain forest and
state park burned down six years ago?”
“Yeah.”
“The guy who burned them down was a ranger who worked at the park.
After the incident, it was revealed that he was a huge racist and hated
Native Americans. Before he set the blaze, he killed six Ojibwe members
right on the edge of Lake Superior. It was an event that came to be known
as Superior’s Shame.”
Quint blinked and Dorian gasped.
“That was on the news!” said Quint.
“Yeah,” added Dorian. “I remember that.”
“It seems therefore,” began Hicks, “that this serpent is their revenge.”
“How is that possible?”
“I don’t know… But after everything we’ve seen, is that so hard to
believe?”
Dorian looked down and tried to consider this possibility. Scientifically,
it was ridiculous. That would mean that the serpent was a curse. But how
could it be a real thing?
There was a flash of lighting and a loud crack of thunder. Heavy rain
thudded against the boat and splashed into the lake.
“We should go into the cabin!” yelled Quint against the wind.
“Help me with Hicks!” said Dorian.
He bent down when suddenly there was a great wind that knocked them
off balance. They caught themselves on the cockpit wall, but then a giant
wave rose out of the water and came at them. It crashed down on the boat,
and Hicks and Dorian were washed overboard.
Dorian was churned up in the lake’s waters and tried to find his balance.
He looked around and saw Hicks about a hundred feet down. He was
floating and seemed to be unconscious again. Dorian started to swim for
him when a big, black mouth filled with razor sharp teeth appeared out of
the murky depths and chomped down on Hicks. He woke up and screamed
underwater as the water turned a reddish hue. The giant mouth retreated
back into the murk.
Dorian’s body seized up. He felt all the pain Hicks felt, his disbelief, but
worst of all his fear.
Dorian couldn’t believe that the thing’s mouth was almost as big as
Hicks. But then, the sight got worse as the murk cleared and Dorian saw it
—the Superior Serpent in all its splendor.
It was as thick as three great whites, it had black scales like a snake,
dozens of curved, pointed spines at least three feet long with others easily
being seven. And then there was its head, shaped exactly like that as the
skull of the unknown marine reptile he had found in Chile. It was like a
dragon’s with razor sharp teeth and horns protruding from the back of its
head. And its eyes were burning red with black slits that hypnotized Dorian
and bore through his very being.
Dorian remained spellbound, his fear growing and the Serpent appearing
to grow as well. It had to be over fifty feet long.
The Serpent charged him, but Dorian couldn’t move. He remained
petrified by its gaze, the chanting and drums reaching deafening levels
within his head.
The Serpent closed on him, opened its mouth, and just as it was about to
chomp down, Dorian broke himself free from the Serpent’s control and
dodged its maws.
Dorian broke the surface of the lake into the fierce battering of the storm.
He turned and saw the boat. He swam for it as fast as he could. Quint saw
him and stood at the end of the Ripley with an arm outstretched. Dorian
made a grab for it when he felt dozens of knives dig into his calf under
enough pressure to crush his leg. He screamed.
“You fuck!” said Quint. He took aim with the harpoon gun and fired.
The harpoon hit the Serpent in its giant head and it screamed before
swimming off.
Quint helped Dorian into the boat and dragged him into the cabin.
“Jesus! Your leg!”
Dorian didn’t hear him. He was in shock.
“Where’s Hicks? Where’s Hicks?!”
Dorian couldn’t answer.
“For fuck sake! That’s it! This bastard isn’t getting away with it
anymore!” Quint rushed back outside.
Dorian lay on the cabin floor and began to feel faint. As his vision
darkened, he thought he heard Quint scream as a Native American chanted
and drums thumped. But then all he heard was the storm as his vision went
dark.
Revelation
Dorian slept for an imperceptible amount of time. Nothing he dreamt
made any sense. At one point, he thought he was being lifted through the air
toward a helicopter with a blazing sun behind it. And then he dreamt he was
in a hospital, but he still felt like he was on the lake, floating.
The sea sickness subsided and Dorian woke with a start to find himself
actually in a hospital bed. A nurse was standing over him.
“Well, good afternoon, Dr. Dorian,” she said. “How do you feel?”
Dorian looked around. “Where am I?”
“Ontonagon Hospital.”
“Why?”
“You were injured. I’d better call the doctor. He wanted to see you when
you woke up.”
The nurse left and Dorian tried to piece together what happened to him.
He couldn’t remember.
The doctor walked in immediately, accompanied by a coast guardsman.
“Hi, Dr. Dorian. I’m Dr. Silberman. How’s the leg?”
“Leg?”
“Yes, your leg.”
“What’s wrong with it?”
“Well… I was hoping you could fill me in on what happened to it.
Before the Coast Guard found you.”
“Indeed,” said the marine. “I have a few questions myself.”
Dorian stared at the man.
“Dr. Dorian, this is Chief Petty Officer Henrikson. He’s with the US
Coast Guard. He wanted to speak to you about your accident.”
“What accident?”
“He seems to be suffering from amnesia,” said the nurse, walking back
in.
“Do you really not remember anything, Doctor?” asked Officer
Henrikson. “Nothing at all about the boat?”
“What boat?”
“The… Ripley, I think it was called.”
“I…”
Multiple sources of pain shot through Dorian’s leg as the memories
flooded back. He screamed at the top of his lungs.
“We need a sedative in here! Stat!” shouted the doctor into the hall.
“Hold him down!” said the nurse as Dorian thrashed.
“The Serpent! Oh, god! The Serpent!”
Several more nurses including a few burly men ran into the room and
they held Dorian down as he continued raving. They got a syringe into his
arm and pulled it out.
“It’s coming to—!” Dorian went out like a light.
He had terrible dreams. He kept seeing the Serpent before his eyes. It
made eye contact with him. He saw it eating the others before coming for
him. He swam to shore, but he never seemed to get there, and all the while,
the Serpent was right behind him growing larger and larger.
Dorian reached out for the shore, but all the water in the lake started to
drain downward, taking him with it. The funnel ran deeper and deeper
draining the whole lake. Then at the bottom, he passed teeth the size of
skyscrapers as he and the rest of the Superior were swallowed down a
darkening gullet.
Dorian snapped awake. He shook his head and wiped the sweat off his
face. He looked around the room and found Chief Petty Officer Henrikson
in a chair right next to him.
“Oh, good. You’re awake again. How do you feel?”
“Like shit.”
“Good. Care to answer a few questions?”
“About the boat?”
“And about what happened to the others,” added another man as he
walked brazenly in. “I’m Lieutenant Tracker. I work for the Ontonagon
Police. So, are you up to it, Dr. Dorian?”
“I’ll try,” said Dorian.
“Very good. So what happened to the others who were with you? We
believe there were six in total.” Lieutenant Tracker took out a notepad. “Let
me see here: James Burke, Lance Fox, William Gorman, Michael Hicks,
William Hudson, and Robert Quint.”
“I… That is… Well, I can tell you what happened, but I don’t think
you’ll believe me.”
“Try us, Dr. Dorian.”
“Okay.”
Dorian told them the whole story. At first, Henrikson and Tracker were
very interested. They even took notes. But when Dorian got to the second
day of the venture, they stopped and looked at each other. As he made it to
the third day, Lieutenant Tracker put his notepad away and put his hands in
his pockets.
“And then I woke up here,” Dorian finished.
“Hmm…” said Tracker. “Quite a tale. Do you have any evidence?”
“What do you mean? Check the boat! It was damaged. It wouldn’t start.
And then there’re the computers. They have saved footage of the beast.”
Dorian looked from one to the other desperately. “And the sonar! That was
damaged beyond repair. And… and… look at my leg!” Dorian threw off his
covers. “What the fuck…?” Dorian looked down at his right leg, but it
ended at his knee.
“The lower half of your leg had to be amputated,” explained Henrikson.
“And I’ll admit, that was quite a serious injury you had, but there’s nothing
in any of the Great Lakes that can do that sort of damage.”
“But—! Did you even run any tests on the teeth marks?!”
“Your leg was so damaged, the amputation was an emergency performed
on the Ripley. Honestly, we were shocked you were alive and even more so
you lived.”
“What…?!” Dorian’s breathing shook. He couldn’t come to terms with
reality. “You just cut off my leg and threw it the fuck away without even
trying to find out why?” Dorian seethed. “What sort of person are you?!
You want answers! Find my damn leg! Find the footage! Listen to the
recordings!”
“Well, we were saving your leg, but it fell off the helicopter and into the
Superior when we were airlifting you off the Ripley. And we checked the
boat for irregularities after we towed it in. The engine was fine and there
was no damage to the hull.”
“We also had men check out the computers already,” said Tracker. “They
were blank. And there was a sonar aboard the ship, but it was in perfect
condition.”
Dorian didn’t believe it. He couldn’t believe it.
“You’ve had a hard time,” said Tracker. “Why don’t you take a little
more time to rest and think it over? We’ll be back.”
Lieutenant Tracker and Chief Petty Officer Henrikson left.
Dorian felt like he was going crazy. Could it have all been his
imagination? No! Six men were dead. And then there was his leg—half of it
was gone. But what about the other evidence? How had it all just
disappeared?
If Hicks was right that the Serpent was indeed a Native American curse,
then that would mean it was a paranormal creature and that would explain a
few things. Dorian could’ve sworn it got bigger when he saw it underwater.
It hadn’t been that big when they sighted it on the second or first day. Had it
fed off their fears? Is that what made it so powerful and why it didn’t seem
to exist now? Because there was no one on the lake to scare?
Dorian lay back down. “I don’t know what the fuck you are, but I’m
going to find you and I’m going to prove you to the world. I won’t let them
die in vain.”
As Dorian thought about the Serpent, an otherworldly scream echoed
through his head and he felt his phantom leg twinge.
Becoming The Dragon
The Reading
It was a dark evening. The thunderstorm had rolled in much earlier than
predicted. Despite the fact it was only 8:30 in July, it already looked like
night due to the storm. But Elliot wasn’t going to let a little rain dampen his
evening. The day would be what he made of it.
He drove southbound on Gratiot Avenue heading to Roseville, a little
suburb on the northeast side of Detroit. He was going to Madam Mystique’s
Fantastical Emporium. Elliot had passed by Madam Mystique’s many times
on his drive to and from work. The little shop had always fascinated him
because he could never understand how fortune tellers made enough money
to run a business. But besides that, there was always something about the
little shop that drew him to it—something stronger than just his usual
curiosity.
Elliot had walked by it one day and looked in the window. He nearly
pressed his face to the glass with childish wonder as he was awed by all the
baubles, crystals, and candles in the store front. There had been a sign in the
window that day that said July was the perfect month for card readings due
to the position of July’s moon. What a perfect opportunity, Elliot thought. If
he went on his special day, the reading would be double special then.
Elliot pulled up in front of Madam Mystique’s and parked on the street.
He walked to the door, umbrella in hand, humming “I’m Singing in the
Rain,” but he went several beats off as he grabbed the handle. His mother’s
voice echoed through his memory telling him that fortune tellers are harlots
for the Devil. He rubbed the back of his head and winced. He grabbed the
door handle again and his heart thumped. He exhaled and nearly ripped the
door open.
Once he entered, he forgot about his trepidation as the strong oily aroma
of burning incense hit his nostrils. He stumbled for a second because he had
never smelled anything like it before. He took down his umbrella and
leaned it against the door frame in the atrium, not wishing to drip water into
the shop. He crossed the threshold and stepped into a small square room
with faded yellow walls and carpets. The glass counter to his right was
filled with octahedron and pyramidal crystals in amethyst, aquamarine,
topaz, and lapis lazuli. Next to those were pendulums at the ends of long
chains, healing crystals, and meditation spheres all in varying types of
quartz.
Elliot looked over his shoulder and his eye was caught by a bookshelf
that had all sorts of books about card and palm reading, astrology, astral
projection, telekinesis, and rune stones. There were also a number of tarot
decks for sale.
Next to the bookshelf was a table with two chairs that faced each other,
and on the table was a pot of tea. The sign next to it read “Help Yourself.”
Elliot poured himself a cup and added a little sugar. It was a unique herbal
blend that while smooth, was also a little spicy. Elliot brought the styrofoam
cup away from his lips and sighed. His heart was still thumping and his
mind raced, but he felt at peace with his decision.
Elliot heard the floorboards creak behind him. He turned and saw a pair
of violet curtains behind the glass counter open to reveal a slender woman
in her mid-thirties. She had long, curly brown hair and fair skin. Elliot
thought she looked very much like a gypsy in her floor-length brown skirt,
plain white blouse, and a brown bodice with gold stitching.
“Hello!” said Elliot with a smile.
The woman folded her arms. “Good evening. Awfully late, don’t you
think?”
“Hm? Am I?”
“Are you what?”
“Am I late? Were you expecting me earlier? I mean, fortune telling is
your forte.”
The woman gave a bemused snicker. “I mean, I don’t usually get
customers at this time of night.”
“Oh, I’m sorry. Are you closed?”
“No… not technically.”
They stared at each other for a few seconds.
Elliot sipped his tea. “Delicious!”
“Oh, you like it? My usual patrons tend to think rooibos is a little
pedestrian.”
“Rooibos? Is that new?”
“No. It’s red tea. From South Africa. Has all the benefits of green tea
without any of the caffeine.”
“Nifty.” Elliot sipped again.
The woman paused again. “Can I help you with something?”
“Yes! I came to have my fortune read.”
“Oh.” The woman relaxed. “You should have said so. I am Madam
Mystique.”
“How do you do, Madam Mystique?” said Elliot dramatically. “I’m
Elliot Fraser.”
“What kind of fortune did you want?”
“Pardon?”
“Did you want your palm read, a tarot reading, or did you want me check
the stars for you?”
“Well, I’ll do whichever you think is best, but I was hoping to do the one
with the cards.”
“Tarot.”
“Yeah!”
“Very well. A reading will be fifty dollars.”
Elliot started. “Fifty?! Goodness. So that’s how places like this stay in
business.”
Mystique paused and eyed him.
“But it is a special occasion. So I guess I can splurge a little.” Elliot
walked over to the counter and pulled out his wallet.
“What’s the occasion?”
“It’s my birthday!”
“Oh, happy birthday.”
“Thank you. I’m thirty-four. I thought it was time I lived a little, so I
decided I’d get my fortune read. I’ve always wanted to!”
Mystique stopped. “This is your idea of living a little?”
“Yes!”
“Not skydiving? Or buying a motorcycle?”
“No, thanks! Too dangerous.” Elliot placed fifty dollars on the counter.
“Maybe I’ll even buy some of these pretty crystals.”
“I’m sorry, but we’re all out of rose-tinted glasses.”
Elliot jumped. “Wow!”
Mystique bit her lip as her eyes grew wide.
“A place that actually sells rose-tinted glasses! Everyone says I should
buy a pair, but I can’t find them anywhere.”
Mystique unclenched. “Well then,” she said, taking his money. She
walked to the back of the store where another set of purple curtains were. “I
use a different system than most when it comes to tarot readings. You see, I
specialize in tarot. And as a result, I’m a bit of a fanatic.”
“Oh, really? I collect bottle caps and stamps myself.”
Mystique stopped. She looked over her shoulder.
“And I build model ships! The ones in the bottles are my favorites.”
“A-anyway,” she said, throwing open the curtains, “welcome to my tarot
room.”
Elliot gasped as his eyes went wide. Going from the curtain all the way
to the back of the store was a room about fifty feet long with three shelves
on each side covered in blue velvet with dozens upon dozens of tarot decks
lined up.
“It’s taken quite a long time to assemble my collection, and it’s still
nowhere near complete.” Mystique turned to him and dropped seven gold
coins into his palm. “Pick seven decks from the ones here. Then we’ll
whittle those down to five, then three, then one. And that will be the one
we’ll use for your reading.”
Elliot entered the hall and turned about. There were so many of them and
they each all had their own designs. Some were bright, others were dark.
Some were simple, others were quite complex. And not all of them had the
same amount of cards. Elliot asked about that.
“Some decks only use the major arcana. Most decks use both the minor
and major arcana.”
“Does that affect the reading any?”
“Some. But some people tend to think the minor arcana is superfluous.”
“How many cards are in a tarot deck?”
“Typically seventy-eight. The minor arcana is made up of fifty-six cards
in four suits: swords, cups, coins, and wands. The major arcana is usually
twenty-two. But there are some decks that stray. Anyway, pick the seven
that you are most drawn to.”
“How will I know if I’m drawn to them?”
“You will know. If you like, I could blindfold you.”
“No, thanks. I’ll save the piñata for next year.”
Mystique furrowed her brow.
Elliot looked down the room slowly. He swallowed. “So many decks. I’ll
just start right here,” he said, dropping a coin on a tall deck with a striped
blue background.
The Raider-White Tarot—the old standard.
Elliot walked further along the shelves, jingling the coins in his closed
hand. He jingled his hand so hard a coin flew out. It landed on the bottom
shelf right on top of a deck that had a winged lion.
“Whoops!” Elliot went to pick up the coin. “On second thought, that was
probably meant to happen. I’ll leave it there.”
The Chimera Tarot—despite the inaccurate depiction of the chimera on
the back of the cards, the deck was filled with portrait paintings of all sorts
of different chimeras. It was a deck meant for those who had a hard time
being a single person.
Elliot continued along his way looking at the shelves. “Ooh! Anna
Strokes. I had a crush on a girl named Anna in high school. I’ll choose that
one.”
The Anna Strokes Gothic Tarot—a deck meant for lovers of Gothic art,
especially fans of the illustrator Anna Strokes; but otherwise unremarkable.
“Hmm,” said Elliot. “This one looks a little scary, but you only live
once.”
Mystique jumped. Elliot had placed a coin on a deck that had what
looked like a shadow figure on it. It was the Mortujuricodex Tarot—a deck
specifically meant to aid mediums in communicating and dealing with the
dead. It could be used to decipher the lives of the dearly departed or even be
used as a means of connecting with and then banishing them. A warlock
from a death cult was the impetus behind the creation of that deck.
“And this man is holding a book on this card. I like books.”
The Grimoire Tarot—based on the short story of the same name by E.A.
Wellscraft, a horror writer who lived in the late Victorian period. The
pictures in the deck were comprised of famous scenes from his most
famous work.
“Ooh! This one seems all right. It reminds me of those two faces that are
associated with drama and the theatre. My mother loves the theatre.”
“It’s actually more based on the yin-yang symbol. Each face is a
different color with the eyes being the opposite color.”
“Oh, yes. I see.”
The Persona Tarot—a heartwarming deck meant for people who often
have complex and deep friendships.
“Okay, just one more,” directed Mystique.
“Hmm.” Elliot wandered the room going up and down the shelves
multiple times. “There are a lot of nifty ones, but none of them really speak
to me.”
Mystique checked her watch. “Don’t dawdle now.”
“Is it close to closing time?”
“No… I technically don’t close. But still, please don’t keep me.”
“Doesn’t it cost a lot of money to be open all hours of the day?”
“I have some… irregular customers.”
“What interesting people they must be to want a tarot reading in the
middle of the night.”
“Not really,” Mystique mumbled under her breath. They were usually a
bunch of nuts willing to pay top dollar for readings, even if that meant a
three hundred percent upcharge for getting Mystique out of bed.
After another ten minutes, Elliot shrugged. “I can’t decide,” he said with
a smile. “I guess I’ll go with this basic black one.”
Mystique gasped. The color drained from her face. The Black Tarot.
“Are you s-sure about that one?”
“Sure! Why not?”
“Y-you’re one hundred percent certain?”
“Yes!”
Mystique began to sweat. “Very well… Please wait here. I need to get
something.”
She quickly went to her other backroom to fetch a cart on which the
decks would be displayed. But as she grabbed the cart, her hands shook.
The Black Tarot—that deck had only one purpose, and in the years she had
been a fortune teller, no one ever asked for a reading from it. Even the most
wretched and abysmal people to walk through her door were averse to its
presence. And yet, Elliot placed a coin on it like it was no big deal.
But then reason began to come over her. She shook her head. A person
like Elliot wouldn’t notice its aura. And what were the chances he’d choose
it over any of the other six?
But, just to be safe, Mystique grabbed a pair of white gloves. She also
grabbed a tub of warm water to purify the negative energy off the coin from
the deck. She wheeled the cart back to the deck room.
“Alright. I’ll put the decks on the cart and we’ll go into the other room,
and you can whittle down your choices.”
“Sounds great. Do you want some help?”
“No. Wait! Yes. I would love some help. Why don’t you grab that last
deck you chose?”
“Sure.” Elliot scooped up the deck without a problem.
Mystique started to sweat again.
“What’s the tub of water for?”
“Oh… That’s, um, to cleanse the energies off the coins. Everything you
touch leaves behind a piece of your aura. And to keep the readings as pure
as possible, I try to keep the coins as pure as possible.”
“I see. Should I go ahead and toss this coin in there then?”
“Um…” Mystique paused. Elliot had touched the deck without a
problem. He had even smiled while he moved it.
“Madam Mystique?”
“Huh? Oh. Uh, tell you what, sport: since this is your first reading, why
don’t you go ahead and keep that coin.”
“Wow! For real?!”
“Certainly.”
“Great. Thanks!” Elliot dropped the coin into his pocket. “I’ll get some
of the other decks.”
Mystique almost shrieked. “No! I mean, that is, please take a seat in the
other room. Try to relax and focus your mind. Try to focus on what
questions you have.”
“Um, okay.” Elliot shot her a quick look as he exited.
After a couple more minutes, Mystique came back to the table with all
seven decks—the other six placed a good distance away from the Black
Tarot.
“Very well, then. Please choose five from these seven.”
“Hmm…”
Mystique found herself praying to any god that would answer.
“Well, this one kind of scares me, so that’s out, and I’m really not into
fantasy, so this one is out, too.”
Mystique grabbed the Mortujuricodex and Chimera Tarots and put them
on a lower shelf on the cart.
“A-alright. Now please choose three.”
“Well, as much as I love the theatre, I’m not really into this one, and this
one’s a little boring.”
Mystique’s heart began to beat faster as she removed the Persona and
Raider-White Tarots. “Now, p-please ch-choose one.”
“Hmm.” Elliot went back and forth between the Anna Strokes, the
Grimoire, and Black Tarots.
Mystique hoped he was secretly a lover of Gothic artwork.
“Hmm, well, I think… I’m going to go with the lonely one over here.”
Mystique’s heart seized. “A-are you s-s-sure?!”
“Yes. Quite certain. I said my goodbyes to Anna when I went to college.
And the one with the book looks a little predictable. The black one over
here just seems so lonely. It’s calling out to me. It says, ‘I wanna be your
friend!’ Can you hear it? If you listen real close, you can almost hear it.”
Mystique choked. She had stopped breathing from shock due to Elliot’s
childish joke. “Um, are you absolutely, positively sure that you want to use
that deck?”
“Yes. Does it have a name?”
“Some call it...” Mystique swallowed. “The Black Tarot.”
“Really? That’s kind of lame, but it is fitting.”
A crack of thunder went off as rain pelted the windows.
Elliot shivered. “Huh. I just got chills. So, how about that reading?”
“S-sure.” Mystique tripped, trying to sit down.
“Are you all right?”
“Fine,” she said in a tiny voice. “Um… why don’t you go ahead and
shuffle the deck, and think about your question.”
“Okay.” Elliot set the deck on the table and began to shuffle. “Are you
all right? You look very pale.”
“I’m fine.” Mystique tried to calm herself. Okay, so he chose the deck,
but that didn’t mean it would respond to him. There was still a chance.
She steadied her hand, still gloved, and took the deck from Elliot. “So,
what’s your question?”
Elliot shrugged. “I just want to know my fortune.”
“Usually that means a reading about the future.”
“Like will I win the lottery or find love?”
“Yes.”
“Ooh! Can’t wait!”
Mystique placed the deck in front of her and as she went to draw the top
card, she tried to make up her mind about which spread to use. To offset the
deck, she would try the celtic cross spread despite the fact the deck was
made to be read in only one way—the inverted pentagram spread.
She drew the first card and placed it in the center of the spread which
represented the matter at hand. It depicted a man dancing at the edge of a
sheer cliff while a squat demon played a flute luring him closer. Mystique
received a vision of a man choosing to ignore the people whispering around
him.
Mystique drew the second card and put it on top of the first horizontally,
making up the center of the cross. This card represented forces hindering
the matter. It depicted a man in simple and dirty clothing as he carried a
message in his hand. A dark cloud was above his head, but he was oblivious
to it. Mystique received a second vision of a man being guilted by several
authority figures of different genders into making decisions he didn’t want
to make.
Mystique was confused. She cast a look at Elliot.
“What is it?”
“I-It’s just… the Servant.”
“And?”
“Like I said earlier, not all tarot decks have the same cards or even the
same number. This deck is unusual in that it has most of the major arcana
used in other tarots, but it also has some unique major arcana. The Servant
is one of them.”
“What does it mean?”
“It’s a representation of someone who serves blissfully, ignorantly, or
isn’t in control of his own will.”
“What was the first one?”
“The Fool. He represents carefree ignorance.”
“Hmm,” said Elliot in a concerned tone. “I hope this all works out.”
“Me, too,” she said in a breathy whisper.
Mystique drew the third card, representing underlying influences, and
placed it below the center cards making the bottom of the cross. She laid
down a card of a house burning and an image flashed through her head. She
saw a small, old farm house set against the night sky. It was completely
engulfed in flames and crackling. Mystique rubbed her head.
“Are you alright?”
“Fine…”
“So, which card is that?”
Mystique composed herself. “The Tower. Drastic and sudden change.
Often unfortunate.”
Elliot’s eyebrows rose.
Mystique drew the fourth card, influences that are coming to an end, and
placed it to the left of the center. She laid it down and felt relieved to see the
hooded skeleton. But then her relief left as she saw a man, beaten and
bloody, burning to death.
Elliot freaked out. “What is that?!”
“C-Calm down! It’s just Death.”
Elliot bristled.
“It doesn’t mean as in someone is going to die. I mean, it could, but
usually it just means change. You know, when your situation changes, it’s
sort of like the death of an old situation.”
Elliot still looked alarmed.
Mystique was also alarmed. The spread didn’t seem to make sense. What
sort of changing influences was Elliot going through that could be coming
to an end? And how was the Tower mixed up in it? She wanted to stop, but
she felt compelled to press on.
Mystique drew the fifth card, influences that may become important, and
put it above the center. It turned out to be the image of a handsome man
with a head of curly blond hair. He had angelic wings, but half of his face
was distorted. Mystique gasped. Her vision returned, and the man went
from being on fire to standing over four others, all of which were dead,
their blood covering the man.
Elliot looked at Mystique but didn’t say anything.
Mystique drew the sixth card, influences on the questioner in the near
future. This one would go to the right of the center, and the cross would be
complete.
She laid it down and saw a serpentine face with red eyes and rows of
sharp teeth, smiling wickedly at her. There was a blood curdling roar in her
mind and her body went cold. She screamed and everything went dark.
Mystique awoke to find herself on the shop floor. Her hip and head hurt,
and Elliot kept calling her name.
“Madam Mystique! Madam Mystique! Are you all right?”
She sat up. “Ariola,” she groaned.
“Huh?”
“Ariola. My name’s Ariola.”
“Oh. Um, are you all right?”
“I think—” But then her heart seized and her chest rose as a sharp ache
hit her head as another vision came. She saw the burning house again, and a
man walked out of it holding his arm. A black serpentine shape emerged out
of the night sky and turned into a dragon with red eyes. It roared and the
house collapsed. Somebody screamed.
She panted.
“Ariola?! What is it?”
She looked at him out of the corner of her eye. She pulled her knees up
to her chin and wrapped her arms around them. “Look, I have to be honest
with you. The Black Tarot has another name. It’s called… Tarot Draconis,
Filius Satanae. It’s Latin for ‘The Tarot of the Dragon.’” Ariola looked at
Elliot. “‘The Son of Satan.’”
Elliot was silent for a few seconds. He tried to make words, but his
mouth wouldn’t move. Finally, he said, “What? What are you talking
about?”
“This tarot was made for the explicit purpose of predicting the coming of
the Dragon, the Son of Satan, and to be used by him… during his reign of
terror.”
Elliot’s eyes darted back and forth. His mouth was agape. But after a
tense ten seconds, he laughed.
Ariola stared at him.
“Whoo! What a story! I’ve got to tell you, Ariola—er, I mean, Madam
Mystique,” he said dramatically again. “This has been quite a night. You
really went all out. If my mother was here, she’d say, ‘See, Elliot?! I told
you all fortune tellers are evil!’ Then she’d slap me upside the head!” He
laughed again. Then rubbed the back of his head and cringed.
“This isn’t a joke! Look!” Ariola stood. “Look at the cards!” Ariola
stopped. “What the hell…?”
“What’s the matter?”
“The-The shape…”
“The shape of what?”
“The spread. The shape of the spread!”
“Yeah,” said Elliot dumbfounded. “It’s a star.”
“No! It can’t be.” Ariola stepped back. “I was doing the celtic cross. I
made a cross with the first six cards!” She looked at Elliot with wide eyes.
“Didn’t I?”
Elliot looked at her. “No,” he said, shaking his head. “You laid them out
in a star.”
“B-But how? I couldn’t have…” Ariola’s hand went up to her head. Had
it all been an illusion? Had the deck tricked her?
Ariola looked down at the spread. She looked at the cards, their
placement in the spread, and her vision began to make sense.
“What is it?” asked Elliot.
“I performed the inverted pentagram spread.”
“So?”
“It’s the Satanic Star! This is the only spread that can be used with this
tarot. I tried using a different spread—I saw myself using a different spread
—but the tarot tricked me and forced me to use this one!”
Elliot gave her a pitying look. Then he smiled. “You really don’t have to
carry on like this. I’m amused. Really, I am.”
“Look! The first position, the top left point representing the past. The
Fool, carefree ignorance.”
“And?”
“Describes you perfectly! The second position, bottom left point is the
present. The Servant, one who doesn’t know his own will. The third
position, bottom point is the immediate future. The Tower, tragedy. The
fifth position, top right point is hidden influences. Lucifer! Lucifer!
Enlightenment and unholy benediction.”
“How can benediction be unholy?”
“And the final position, the center, the future on the current path, the
Dragon! The Dragon! The Son of Satan!”
“And what about the fourth card? The bottom right point?”
“Possible future on an opposing path, Death. Either as in change or an
actual death.”
Elliot regarded the cards. “Okay… so what does it mean?”
Ariola sighed and collapsed into her chair. “It should be pretty obvious.”
Elliot’s eyebrows rose. “You’re saying… I’m the Dragon? I’m the Son
of the Devil?!”
“Seems so…”
“Can’t be.”
Ariola shook her head. “What?”
“I’m not a fool and I’m not a servant. I know exactly who I am, what I’m
doing, and where I’m going!”
Ariola shook. “Do you?!”
“Yes! I am Elliot Fraser. Thirty-four. Six-foot-three, white male. I’m a
computer programmer for Vitech where I just got a promotion because of
all the hard work I do, and I live in Clinton Township.”
“And what’s that supposed to mean?”
“I am the result of all my own choices. They were good choices. The
right choices. No one’s controlling me.”
“Really? Tell me: what are your dreams?”
“My dreams?”
“Yes. What’s something you’ve always wanted or wanted to do?”
Elliot thought for a minute. “I’d always wanted my fortune told.”
“That’s pathetic.”
“You talk that way about your own business?”
“You don’t dream of getting a card reading. You get one to make sure
you’re on the right path, and if not, then how to change your path. No one
aspires to one day sit in the chair opposite me. There must be something
else. Anything else.”
Elliot sat down; he was quiet for a while.
“Really?! Nothing?! There’s not anything else in the whole world you
want?”
Elliot mumbled a response.
Ariola cocked her head. “Say that again.”
Elliot mumbled louder.
“Did you say, ‘friends?’”
Elliot looked down. “Nobody likes me. And I don’t know why. I’ve tried
all my life to be friendly and sociable, but people either ignore me or make
fun of me behind my back. They have no respect for me and even make fun
of me to my face.”
Elliot put his head on his hand. “In truth though…” he began, “I want it
all,” he said with a hungry voice. “Friends, money, power, women… I want
everything.”
“What’s stopping you?”
Elliot gave a hopeless shrug. “I’m Elliot Fraser. I’m a thirty-four year old
computer programmer for the crummiest company in the industry. I only
took the job so I could be close to my mother to take of her, which I only
did because she guilted me into it. Said she would die if I moved out. Add
to that, my hobbies are boring, I never do anything I actually enjoy. Women
cringe at the sight of me, my bosses think I’m incompetent and a pushover.”
“But you said you got a promotion.”
“Yeah, because I’ve been putting in a lot of work because I haven’t had a
weekend off in six months. They thought that since I was there all the time I
could do more work. They gave me a special computer that can access the
most important systems and programs, but it’s dull work. Dull, dull, dull!
“My life…” Elliot stopped, but he looked like he was trying to say a
word.
Ariola thought it may have started with an “S.” She ventured, “Sucks?”
“Yes! Geez. I’m too scared to even swear.” Elliot rubbed the back of his
head again.
“I see,” said Ariola.
Elliot sighed. “This is the first decent conversation I’ve had with a
person since… I can’t even remember when.”
Elliot was quiet for a while. He then leaned over the table. He picked up
the Fool. “The Fool, huh? Yeah, that sounds like me. I try my damnedest to
stay in the dark about how my life actually is because the more I look at it,
the less I like it.” He put the Fool down. Then he spun the Dragon around
with his finger. “What is the Dragon?”
“He’s the Son of Satan.”
“But what does that mean?”
“The Dragon is pure evil and brings great suffering with him wherever
he goes. He makes Hell on Earth.”
“Okay, but what does that actually mean? What evil does he cause?”
Ariola shrugged. “All of it? Rape, murder, theft, human sacrifice.
Blasphemy? I don’t know. He’s the ultimate villain.”
“I see.”
Elliot swiveled the card back and forth a little. It made Ariola’s skin
crawl.
“Is there any way of confirming that I’m the Dragon?”
“What do you mean? That’s what the tarot was made for. It was made to
predict the advent of the Dragon and to be used by him during his
conquest.”
“Is that truly what the cards are saying though?”
Ariola stared at him. “What do you mean?”
“Well, you’re a card reader. Is there any way to see further into the
future? Or to confirm this?”
“I can draw another card and see if it offers any hints…” Ariola did so
and she dropped it next to the Dragon. The image was of a woman in
shackles wearing black robes that barely draped around her body, leaving
her bust exposed. “Huh. The Oracle.”
“What does it mean?”
“It just means ‘future events.’ It’s one of those cards that doesn’t make
sense by itself. But I have no idea what it could mean.” Ariola looked up at
Elliot, and the second their eyes met, a shiver went down her spine.
Elliot looked down at the spread, but after a beat, he stood up. “Well, I
think I should be going. Mom has to take her pills before she goes to bed,
and she’ll beat my ass if I don’t remind her. Good night.” Elliot grabbed his
umbrella and disappeared into the storm.
Ariola was alone. She was very confused. It wasn’t every day someone
hears he’s the Devil’s progeny and then just walks off as if they had just
been wished a good morning. Elliot had seemed worried and disgusted
before, but now, he didn’t seem to care. Why? What made him change his
mind so suddenly?
Ariola stared at the Oracle. She really didn’t like it. Somewhere in her
mind, she heard glass shattering and a woman screaming. She felt as if
something had “arms” around her—they were cold. She felt trapped,
abused, and scared. She felt violated, but couldn’t figure out why or in what
way.
Dark Ascension
Elliot’s drive home was quiet. Usually he listened to the radio, preferring
soft rock or adult contemporary, but everything Ariola had told him had
really struck him. The idea that he could be the son of Satan and commit
heinous acts of evil seemed beyond him. But something about it did appeal
to him. Ariola had called the Dragon the ultimate villain, and villains
always had everything they could ever want: money, power, women, and
people feared them. All that would sure be a nice change from his own life.
Elliot pulled up to his house in Clinton Township. His home had once
been an old farm. It hadn’t been very big, but they still retained some of the
land from the old days, making their property at least twice the size of any
of their neighbors’. The lawn was neatly trimmed, but some of the bushes
had overgrown. And though the house was old and small and needed to be
painted, it was still architecturally sound.
Elliot pulled his car into the unpaved drive and noticed something
strange as he got out—all the lights in the house were off. His mother
couldn’t have gone to bed already, it was too early. And it was very strange
that the porch light hadn’t been turned on.
He opened the front door into the darkened living room. He expected to
see his mother lounging on the couch watching old movies on TV, but she
wasn’t there. He looked into their connecting dining room and kitchen, but
both were dark and completely empty.
Elliot turned to close the door when he noticed something odd. The
birthday cake he had bought for himself had a piece missing. He had cut
one for himself and one for his mother, which she refused so he ate it
anyway, and that had been it. But as he looked at the small sheet cake, there
was quite a bit of it missing and it didn’t look like someone had cut it, but
rather just grabbed it with his bare hand.
There was a creak behind Elliot, but before he could turn, an aluminum
bat cracked him across the back of his head. He dropped instantly.
Elliot awoke to find himself on the floor of his bedroom on the second
floor with his hands tied behind him. He had a splitting headache and there
were several other slight aches and pains all over his body—he had a vague
recollection of being dragged up a rough incline. Then he became aware of
several figures in his room. At least four were men and there was one short,
rotund shape that continued to whimper like a beaten dog.
One of the men bent over and peered at Elliot. “He’s awake.”
“Finally,” a second laughed. “Hold this old bitch, Dan.”
A man stepped to the side and grabbed the woman.
The second man stepped up and Elliot tried to roll over so he could see
him, but his face was still enshrouded by the darkness of the house.
“Hello, Elliot,” said the man. “Miss me?”
“Miss… you? Who are you?”
“Who am I?! You mean to tell me you don’t recognize me?”
“I can’t see your face…”
“But you don’t even recognize my voice. We used to work together at
the same shitty computer programming company. Remember Vitech? Oh
wait, that’s right. You still work there.”
Elliot was confused. He tried to remember working with someone who
had left recently, but his mind was still foggy from the bat to the head. “I’m
sorry…”
“It’s me… Robert.”
Elliot’s eyes went wide. “Robert Adelstein?!”
“That’s right. Now you remember.”
“Yes, I remember you. You were fired for stealing.”
“I was fired because of you!”
“You downloaded a virus into accounting’s system to commit penny
shaving.”
“So? Vitech never would’ve noticed the missing money.”
“Not at first, but eventually. And it wouldn’t have taken that them long
to figure out when the programming was changed by calculating how much
money had gone missing and how slowly the account was growing, and
then simply working backward from there. You would’ve been found out
eventually.”
“By that time, I would be in Tahiti with hundreds of thousands of dollars
at my disposal. They never would have found me.”
“Really?” said Elliot indignantly. “Well, that might be true, but the fact
that I noticed a glitch in the programming a few days after you uploaded it
shows how sloppy you were. And I’m not very good at my job to begin
with.” Elliot smiled, amused. It was his first real smile in decades.
“And you just had to go and tell somebody. Couldn’t leave it alone,
couldn’t ignore it?!” Adelstein kicked Elliot in the ribs.
Elliot coughed. “I was just doing my job…”
“‘Just doing my job,’” mocked Adelstein. He kicked Elliot again.
“What are you doing here, Robert? You’re supposed to be in prison.”
“I felt that the institution didn’t have anything else to offer me. And so
I’m here,” Adelstein crouched down, “for some good, old-fashioned
revenge.”
Elliot was quiet for a second. Then he laughed.
Adelstein growled. “What’s so funny?”
“You’ve got some real… shit for brains!” replied Elliot.
His mother wailed. He had never really sworn before.
His heart beat quickly and his mind raced. “You’re going to take revenge
on me. Well, go ahead… asshole! I haven’t got anything worth stealing, and
honestly, my life isn’t worth anything to anyone. Not even me.”
“Oh, we can’t have that,” said Adelstein as he stood. He placed his foot
on Elliot’s head. “Maybe you’ll change your mind when you and your fat,
bitchy mother are charring to a crisp! But first, we’re going to help
ourselves to your work computer. I heard through the grapevine that you
have access to all the major systems at Vitech.”
Elliot’s eyes went wide again.
“Right… Grant?”
“Grant?! You’re working for Robert?!”
“With Robert,” said the last man. “I’m sorry, Elliot. But we would’ve cut
you in on the deal if you had just kept your mouth shut.”
“Ugh! Grant, you asshole.”
“Hey,” said Adelstein. “When did this guy grow a sack?”
Grant shrugged.
“Well, whatever. Jerry, you keep Elliot company.”
“Can I treat him to my special brand of hospitality?” laughed Jerry as he
pounded his fist into his hand.
“Sure! I bet you could even cut the zip tie holding his wrists together and
he still wouldn’t fight back. He’s a real pussy.”
“I love an easy fight.”
Adelstein and Jerry laughed maniacally.
Adelstein, Dan, and Grant took Elliot’s wailing mother with them as they
left.
Jerry advanced on Elliot. “You and I are going to have some fun.” Jerry
pulled Elliot up to his feet by the collar, held him against the wall, and
started punching him in the face.
Elliot had never been in a fight before. Each strike brought on a dull
impact followed by a sting and he started to lose his ambition to resist.
Jerry cracked Elliot across the jaw. Elliot faced Jerry and spat blood in
his face.
“Now we’re talkin’,” said Jerry. He continued to beat Elliot, punching
and kneeing him in the stomach.
Somewhere on the ground floor, Elliot could hear his mother screaming
as someone told her to shut up and the others ransacked the house. There
was a smacking sound through the floor followed by a heavy thud—his
mother was quiet.
Jerry slugged Elliot in the nose and blood was summoned in its wake. He
threw all of his weight into a jab across Elliot’s face and knocked him into
the antique wardrobe next to him. Elliot’s head smashed into the edge and
he fell.
Jerry exhaled. “Robbie wasn’t kidding. You don’t fight back. I never
noticed before, but I actually like it when my prey resists a little. I bet I
could beat you without your hands tied behind your back.”
Jerry pulled out a chair in Elliot’s room and sat in it. He put his arm on
the table next to it and quickly pulled it back up. “What is this shit?!” Jerry
leaned closer to the table top. “Bottle caps and stamps?!” He looked back at
Elliot on the floor. “What a fucking loser.” Jerry knocked it all onto the
floor.
Suddenly there was screaming from the ground floor again. Someone
lost their temper and shouted, “Shut up, you stupid bitch!” There was
another smack followed by more wailing.
Elliot could barely hear anything. He was so far away in his own realm
of pain that nothing else mattered. But there was something, far in the back
of his mind, that began to grow. Death—not the word, but the image of a
hooded skeleton. The hooded skeleton went from being a piece of line art to
a real figure as it stood over the body of a man, bruised and bleeding, as fire
started to envelop him. The vision was followed by an explanation:
“Possible future…”
Elliot heard a deep voice. “Do you want to die?”
“No,” Elliot replied.
“You are going to die.”
“I don’t want to die.”
“Then you must fight.”
“I don’t want to fight.”
“‘I don’t want to fight. I’m a good boy.’ Pathetic. Wretched. Abysmal.
You’re a loser, Elliot Fraser, and you’re going to die a loser’s death.”
“Shut up!”
“What?” said Jerry, jumping.
“I’m not going to die,” said Elliot through grit teeth.
“Why not?”
“Because I want to live. Today, I did something I’ve never done before
and I was…”
“Liberated. You loved the rush and exhilaration of doing something
you’ve always wanted.”
“Yes!”
“You want to always feel that way.”
“Yes!”
“Money, power, women—those will liberate you. Is that what you
think?”
“Well…”
“What the hell did you say?” asked Jerry, standing.
“Do you truly want those things? Do you truly desire liberation?”
“…Yes. I want to be free. I want money, power, women… I want it all. I
want everything…” Elliot looked up. “And most of all…”
“Hmm…?”
“I want to be feared!”
Jerry laughed. “I ain’t scared of you, you shitless wonder.”
“Then you know what you must do. Become the Dragon… Take these
four wretches before you… They will be the test to see if you’re worthy of
being feared. Their blood will liberate you! Show them your fury, show
them your strength, show them they are right to be scared of you! Become
the Dragon.”
“I… am…”
“Hey!” shouted Jerry. “What the fuck are you on about?” Jerry picked
Elliot up. “You think you’re big and bad, now?”
Elliot lifted his head and made eye contact. Jerry recoiled slightly—this
wasn’t the same guy he had been beating. But it didn’t matter, he was still
beat.
“You’re not bad!” Jerry shoved Elliot into the wall. “I’ve hit you so hard
you’re imagining things. Hell, I think we’re about done here.” Jerry took a
switchblade out of his pocket and opened it. He grabbed Elliot by the chin
and pulled his arm back.
“Why don’t you untie my hands and see for yourself?”
“What was that?”
“I said, untie my hands and let’s see who’s actually bad.”
“Oh, really?” Jerry laughed. “That’s funny.”
“Laugh it up… wretch!”
Elliot surged forward and headbutt Jerry as hard as he could. Jerry
dropped his knife, stumbled back, and cursed. Elliot squatted and cut the zip
tie. He raised the knife and went to stab Jerry.
Jerry looked up in time and grabbed Elliot’s wrist. Elliot went to punch
him, but Jerry wrapped his arm around Elliot’s. Jerry kneed Elliot in the
groin and he doubled over, dropping the switchblade. Jerry grabbed Elliot
by the chin and landed a solid punch on him. Jerry pulled back for a second,
but Elliot landed an uppercut into Jerry’s groin. Jerry howled and doubled
over.
Elliot took the offensive, grabbing Jerry and whirled him around
smashing him into the wardrobe. Elliot swung him around the other way
and Jerry tripped over Elliot’s bed, smacking his head into one of the
posters.
Elliot grabbed Jerry by the collar and pulled him up, but Jerry punched
him in the nose. Elliot crashed over his table, his hand landing on a glass
cylinder. Jerry got up and went for another punch, but Elliot turned at the
last minute and shattered the glass bottle, model ship and all, into Jerry’s
face.
Jerry clutched his bleeding face and moaned. He cursed, swearing he
was going to get Elliot, but Elliot slipped behind him and forced Jerry’s
head forward and down, smashing it into one of the table’s corners. There
was a crack and a sudden stop, and Jerry went limp.
Something dark cheered.
Elliot took a step back. He stood as tall as he could and wiped the blood
from his face.
Adelstein’s voice came from below. “Jesus! What’s going on up there?
Go check it out, Dan.”
“I… am…” said Elliot.
Heavy footsteps ran up the stairs.
Elliot quickly reached over to his worktable and picked up a modeling
knife with a razor sharp blade.
Dan made it to the room and looked through the doorway. He first saw
Elliot just standing there. Then he saw Jerry with the table’s corner
embedded into his head.
“Jerry!” Dan looked back up at Elliot. “You motherfucker!”
Dan charged, but Elliot struck like a viper embedding the knife into
Dan’s skull with all his strength. He pushed Dan against the doorframe and
worked the knife into his head. But Dan wouldn’t die—the point of the
modeling knife was too short.
Dan screamed and struggled. He pulled his fist back for a punch, but
Elliot replied by repeatedly stabbing Dan in the head and face. Dan
screamed louder.
Elliot tried to silence him by stabbing the modeling knife into his throat
over and over. Dan’s yells gurgled. He tried to stop Elliot, but Elliot was
bigger.
Then with a slight adjustment to his hand and arm, Elliot went from
stabbing Dan in the neck to slashing him across the throat. He ended the
combo by driving the modeling knife through Dan’s eye and embedded it
halfway up its handle into his eye socket.
Dan stopped thrashing and slid down the door frame.
A phantom laughed.
Elliot stepped into the hall. He didn’t hear anything from downstairs.
Grant and Adelstein had heard the scuffle, and if they didn’t hear from Dan
soon, they would realize what happened.
Elliot descended the stairs with singular focus. Everything his eyes fell
upon burned and shriveled up. Fury radiated off him, giving him an
unnatural aura as if light bent around him so that it wouldn’t have to touch
him making the space around him darker than anywhere else.
He reached the first floor and turned into the living room. There was a
whooshing sound and Elliot ducked under the baseball bat. He punched
Grant in the face, ducked another wild swing, and elbowed Grant across the
temple.
Grant fell, dropping the bat. He looked around wildly and tried to grab it,
but Elliot stepped and his heel crushed Grant’s hand. Grant yelled.
Elliot kicked Grant across the face. He was thrown back into the coffee
table, knocking his head against it. He shook the pain off, but as he went to
get up, the end of the baseball bat stroked the side of his head.
Grant looked up at Elliot and saw a man not wholly there, completely
apathetic to the situation.
“What sort of monster are you?”
“I am… the…”
Elliot’s dead gaze held Grant’s long enough until the bat was inches from
his head. There was nothing he could do as it collided into his temple,
knocking him to the side. He went to get up but another whack to the back
of the head stopped him. There was another one and this one was followed
by a vicious crack.
Elliot dropped the bat next to Grant’s body as he wandered into the
kitchen. He turned and saw Adelstein with a butcher’s knife to his mother’s
throat.
Adelstein’s voice quavered. “Wha… What the fuck?!”
Elliot just stood there. He looked less like a man, and more like a spirit
that had just manifested. He was as grim as a shadow and twice as eerie.
But Adelstein wouldn’t be made a fool of.
“I’m going to kill this old lady!”
“Go ahead.” Elliot’s voice was hollow and distant. “She was never my
mother.”
“Elliot!” his mother wailed. “What’re you saying?”
“She hated me. She hated me before she knew me. I was the cause of all
her pain. I’m the reason her man left. She turned her pain into mine, the
child she would’ve gladly given up to have him back. But she stuck with
me out of a misguided sense of moral virtue rather than smothering me in
my sleep like she wanted.”
“Elliot!” his mother wailed. “Stop it!”
“I remember how you used to come into my room with a pillow in your
hands, the bathtub running… It would’ve been easy to make it look like a
tragic accident.”
“Elliot!”
Adelstein shook. He looked at the old woman. He clenched her tighter
and poked the knife harder against her throat. “I’m serious!”
“Go ahead… I have no mother.”
Adelstein tensed up. “Give me your work computer and this’ll all be
over, Elliot!”
“You mean this one?” said Elliot, picking up a messenger bag right next
to the front door. “The computer that will allow you access into Vitech’s
systems and files, and let you raise all the havoc you want?”
“That’s right.” Adelstein held out his hand.
“There’s a problem with it.”
“What’s that?”
Elliot dropped the bag on the floor and drove his heel into it. There was a
crunch. “It’s broken.”
“Sonuva bitch! If you had just given it to me, I wouldn’t have to kill you
both now.”
Elliot paused. He lifted his hand and flexed it into a fist. “Two of us will
die, but neither will be me.”
“Oh yeah, motherfucker?!” Adelstein ripped the butcher’s knife across
the old woman’s throat. In a flash of red, there was a scream. He charged
Elliot, but Elliot managed to evade him as if he wasn’t totally there.
Adelstein spun whirling the knife as dangerously as he could. The blade bit
into Elliot’s temple, but Elliot managed to grab Adelstein’s arm and trap it.
He ripped his fist across Adelstein’s face before pulling it back and doing it
again and again.
Adelstein’s nose bled as he slumped over, but he didn’t fall as Elliot still
held him. He punched Elliot in the groin, and Elliot let go, backing up.
Adelstein charged and tackled Elliot into the kitchen, pinning him against a
counter.
The two wrestled, bashing each other against the counters and
appliances, smashing dishes and cabinets as they went. Adelstein kicked
Elliot back, but Elliot rebounded with a tackle. Adelstein moved to the side
and grabbed something out of the corner of his eye. He ripped it across the
back of Elliot’s head and the milk bottle shattered, drenching Elliot.
Elliot slumped on the counter. He was worn out. He could hardly see,
and blood leaked from his nose and mouth.
Adelstein pulled another knife from the kitchen block and drove it into
Elliot’s upper arm. The searing pain brought Elliot back to life and he spun,
grabbed Adelstein’s groin, and squeezed and twisted. Adelstein howled
dropping the knife, but he managed to reach into the waistband of his pants
and draw a small revolver.
There was a shot.
The stinging pain in Adelstein’s crotch ceased as Elliot fell to the floor.
Adelstein slumped backwards into a kitchen counter. He laughed
nervously. “Hell of a fight, but in the end, I win!” Adelstein started to
dance, but the pain between his legs stopped him. “Aw, fuck! I should get
the hell out of here anyway.”
He went to the living room and picked up a gas can. He began splashing
it around the ground floor when his foot tapped the messenger bag. He
picked it up. “Even if the computer is damaged, all the data should be
intact.” He dropped the gas can and walked back over to Elliot—he wasn’t
moving.
Adelstein took his gun out again. “Just to be sure.”
Suddenly there was a noise like a cross between a belch and a moan. It
sent shivers down Adelstein’s spine. He turned and didn’t see anyone, but
the room was suddenly very cold and he had the distinct impression he
wasn’t alone.
Then he felt something sharp pierce his neck. He jumped but something
held him down. He tried to turn, but he was kicked in the back of the leg
and the back of his head was brought down into something hard. His mind
went fuzzy and something hard slammed into his back. It took some effort,
but he finally realized he was on the ground, and someone was standing
over him.
Adelstein looked up at Elliot, blood dripping from his side. “Who…”
Adelstein wheezed. “Who the fuck are you?”
A humorless grin stretched over Elliot’s face. “I am… the Dragon.”
Adelstein felt a wave of cold and fear shoot through his body as flames
erupted over his body. He screamed.
Consummation
Elliot was outside. He was on his knees on the front lawn. He held his
arm as it still bled. The house behind him was roaring and crackling as it
burned, giving off an intense heat.
Sirens announced the arrival of EMS vehicles, including an ambulance, a
fire truck, and several police cars.
A fire fighter went up to Elliot. “Hey, buddy! Are you alright?”
Elliot looked up slowly.
The fire fighter jumped back.
Elliot smiled. “I’m fine.”
“Who… who are you?”
“I am…”
But he was interrupted by screams coming from inside the house. A
woman’s voice was calling out for Elliot. A few of the fire fighters rushed
to the side of the house in fireproof gear, looking for a way in.
Elliot stood and began to walk away.
“Sir!” said an EMT. “Are you Elliot?”
The screaming intensified. The EMT looked at the house.
Elliot turned his head to the side. He spat. The front half of the house
collapsed and the screaming ceased.
There was a roar as the flames blazed more fiercely, and Elliot left the
panicking first responders behind.
The Occult Killer
On the west side of Detroit was a rundown apartment building. One of
the apartments was furnished with only a dirty and torn up couch along with
a large, old television. A scrawny man in a worn out, button-down shirt one
size too big for him and dirty jeans sat on the couch and sharpened a katana
with the tip of the blade embedded in the floor. A cross dangled from his
neck as he leaned over the red-stained blade, dragging a whetstone across it.
The only light source in the room was coming from the TV.
“And in other news,” said the reporter, “on the east side of Detroit in the
city of Roseville, a small business was ransacked late last night.”
The man looked up from his sword.
“The shop was Madam Mystique’s Fantastical Emporium run by local
woman, thirty-four year old, Ariola Lenormand. She specializes in selling
good luck crystals and telling fortunes. She’s famous for her expansive tarot
deck collection and allowing clients choose which deck they would like to
have their fortunes read from.
“Police believe the shop was broken into sometime after midnight. There
was evidence of a struggle but nothing appears to be stolen except for a
single tarot deck. Police attempted to contact Miss Lenormand, but have
had difficulty doing so and now believe she is being held against her will.
There are no suspects at this time.
“If you have any information on the suspect or the whereabouts of Miss
Lenormand, you are encouraged to contact the Roseville police.
“In other news, a home in Clinton Township burned to the ground earlier
last night where five bodies were iden—”
The man shut off the TV. He inspected the edge on his katana. He held
up a sheet of loose leaf paper and the katana sheared it with ease. The man
smirked and sheathed it.
He put on a large, black overcoat. “Looks like I’m not the only one
who’s trying to clean up this town.”
The man picked up his katana and exited out the window. He climbed
down the fire escape to access the street below.
“Destroy all that is evil, so that good may flourish.”
Coming Attractions
Chrissy returned to her quarters. She didn’t care what Tim said—she was
still excited to meet Dr. Dorian, even if he had become fond of the drink in
recent years. He was still a renowned marine zoologist, credited with the
finding of the Tanninsaurus and helping to further research on the psychic
abilities of marine animals.
Still though, as Chrissy proceeded to sit on her bed and open her
computer, she couldn’t push all the stories and rumors from her mind.
Drinking was only one of them, and not even the worst at that. For the past
five years, he had spent his life chasing sea monster and sea serpent stories.
Some even said he was part of an investigation on Lake Superior in the
state of Michigan. The story went that the entire crew went missing,
reported dead by Dorian, and that he himself had lost his mind.
Chrissy didn’t know much more than that. But ever since she had studied
Dr. Dorian in grad school, she never allowed anything any one would say
tarnish his image in her mind. She looked up to him, and no one, not even
Tim, could take that from her.
Chrissy set to her work and overlooked the bioscanner reports of the
types of fish that had swum past the facility and the surrounding areas.
Maybe she’d finally see her first giant squid, or perhaps identify the
anomaly they kept picking up farther out.
As she worked, Chrissy turned on the imaging dome above her. Despite
that no sunlight reached the bottom of the pacific ocean, the software would
pick up whatever was directly outside, brighten it up, and broadcast it for
her to see if she looked up. She also preferred the soft blue glow of the
ocean than her room’s fluorescent bulbs, not to mention the added bonus of
possibly seeing something unique outside should she see an interesting
shadow cast around her room.
Chrissy began documenting the types of fish. Due to the bioscanners, she
could pick up recordings in real time and a few began coming through. In
zone seven, there was a report of an angler fish while in zone two there
were several reports of tripod fish. Chrissy recorded them when one of the
scanners in zone one pinged. Suddenly, another in zone one pinged. And
then another and another.
Chrissy closed her recordings and brought up the bioscanner list. The
four pings had come from scanners Q through N, backward. She was quite
interested to find out what had set the four off in quick succession. She
looked at the scanners’ info, expecting the fish species to pop up any
second. But after a few seconds, they all read “UNKNOWN SPECIES.”
Chrissy frowned. Were the scanners malfunctioning or had a truly
unidentified species of fish really moved past all four of them?
Chrissy was about to file a report to Dan about the scanners possibly
malfunctioning when scanners D through A suddenly pinged in quick
succession. She watched her computer screen intently, waiting for the
result. But after a few seconds, they all reported “UNKNOWN SPECIES.”
Chrissy blinked and her mouth dropped. This was quite unusual. She
couldn’t help but wonder if it was the anomaly they kept picking up, but
that didn’t seem to make sense as it was last recorded in zone eight, a
thousand feet up and five hundred feet north.
She pulled up the seafloor map surrounding the facility. Zone one was
the zone immediately outside the facility, and as she looked at the map,
looking to see where scanners A through D and N through Q were, she
noticed that those eight scanners were all just outside of her sector. Scanner
1-A was just fifty feet away from her out in the briny deep. Not only that,
but she noticed that the two sets of scanners were right next to each other
which meant that whatever passed by N through Q and then D through A
was headed in her direction. Chrissy’s heart skipped a beat—she might
actually get a chance to see what their anomaly was.
Chrissy looked up at the blue viewing dome and bounced up and down
on her bed. “I can’t wait to see what it is!” she said to herself. Suddenly, her
video caller began to ring. She sighed and answered.
“Hey, Chrissy,” said Tim.
“What do you want?” she said, annoyed, as for some reason the room
began to darken.
“I just want you to know that I dug up some more dirt on your hero Dr.
Dorian.”
“Shut up, Tim! I don’t care that he drinks.”
“This isn’t about his alcoholism. This is about what he spends all his
money on these days,” said Tim with a sarcastic smile.
“Would you please piss off!?” she said as the room became darker. “I
said I don’t care! There’s nothing you can say or do that would ruin him for
me.”
“Oh, I wouldn’t say that.”
“That’s right. You won’t say anything!” Chrissy closed her video caller
before Tim could make a retort. He tried to call right back, but Chrissy
slapped a 12-hour mute on his profile. She would’ve blocked him totally, if
she could have, but the programmers who made their computers had put
certain restrictions on what restrictions to privacy they had in the case of
emergencies. So she would have to make do with the 12-hour mute for now.
“Idiot.”
Chrissy closed her computer and went over to her dresser. She pulled out
her pajamas and began to change her clothes when suddenly the area
around her dresser brightened up for a second before becoming dark again.
Chrissy looked around the room and finally noticed how dark it actually
was. She was about to look up at the imaging dome when a spear-like
shaped shadow appeared on the floor next to her. She watched it cross her
floor and disappear upon reaching the opposite wall. For whatever reason,
she thought the spear shape was a fin as it was connected to the mass that
now darkened her room.
Chrissy wanted to look up at the imaging dome, but every fiber of her
being told her not to. Every so often, another fin-like object would show up
on her floor and glide past silently. Chrissy didn’t know how long her room
had been darkened for, but when she began to realize that it didn’t seem to
be ending any time soon, it began to dawn on her that something
extraordinarily large was swimming above her quarters.
Chrissy swallowed hard. While shadows could look bigger than the
actual animal that cast them, this shadow just kept going which implied
something truly gigantic, or at the very least, extremely long.
Chrissy began to breathe fast. She closed her eyes and started bouncing
on the balls of her feet. She was working herself up to look at the imaging
dome. It didn’t matter what the creature was, she had to see it. It was for the
sake of science and it could answer so many questions.
Chrissy’s breathing quickened and her heart beat faster. Finally, she
clamped down on a scream and looked up, forcing her eyes open, but she
saw nothing. She looked all around the imaging dome, but there was
nothing outside. She then realized that at some point while her eyes were
closed, the room had gotten brighter. “Dammit!” she said, throwing her
shirt on the floor. “I missed it!” But then an idea struck her.
Chrissy rushed over to her computer and opened it, pulling up the video
caller. She selected Richard’s name and hit call. The screen rang a few
times and Chrissy bounced on her bed nervously. “Come on, Richard.
Come on. Please be awake.”
Suddenly the screen flashed and Richard’s face appeared as he rubbed
one of his eyes. “Chrissy,” he yawned. “What’s the matt—whoa,” he said,
seeing her in her bra and jeans. “It must be my birthday.”
“Richard! Turn on your imaging dome! Now!”
“What? Why?”
“Just do it!”
“I don’t think so. I don’t enjoy seeing the blackening deep from the
bottom.”
“Please! I think whatever our anomaly is just passed by my room.”
“What? Are you serious? Did you get a look at it?”
“No! I was too scared.”
“Too scared? What do you mean?”
“Just turn on your dome!”
“Alright, alright.” Richard lifted the control and begrudgingly switched
it on.
“Do you see anything!?”
“No,” he said, shaking his head. “Are you sure you didn’t dream this?”
“I’m sure! Bioscanners in zone one were going off like mad before it
passed by here. Scanners Q through N went off, in that order, and then D
through A. It took me a while to realize that whatever it was, was heading
straight for me.”
“Why didn’t you see it?”
“I got distracted by Tim and then forgot about it.”
“Distracted how?”
“Never mind! Look up! Are you sure there’s nothing there?”
“I’m sure,” said Richard, looking up again. “But if there is something
heading my way, or if I missed it, then the scanners behind me should go
off soon, right?”
Chrissy jumped. “That’s right!” She pulled up the list of scanners and
waited.
“Anything?” asked Richard after a minute.
“Nothing…” Chrissy’s face fell. “What the hell? I don’t understand.”
“Well, the ocean is three-dimensional. It’s possible whatever the creature
was swam upward once passing your room.”
“Then that means that zone five should be going off.”
“And there’s nothing?”
“Nothing!”
“And you didn’t see anything?”
“I saw…” Chrissy’s face contorted. “I saw some fin shaped shadows
glide by on my bedroom floor.”
“How big were they?”
“Gigantic! And they all seemed to be connected to one long mass.”
“How long?”
“I don’t know. A…a hundred feet? At the least. Most likely more.”
“A hundred feet?! Could’ve been a blue whale then.”
“Not at twelve thousand feet below the surface!”
“Alright, alright. I was just spit-balling.” Richard exhaled. “Then I have
no idea what it could have been.”
Chrissy began to shake. The implications of the size of the creature
begin to well up in her mind. The only thing that kept her from cracking
was the fact that it had somehow eluded all their scanners. The sheer
impossibility of the situation derailed whatever madness she could’ve fallen
into due to confusion.
Richard could see that she was beginning to crack, so he said, “Listen.
We can’t do anything about it tonight while the team’s asleep. Get some rest
yourself. We’ll convene in the morning and you can tell us all about it.”
Chrissy nodded. “Alright.”
“Alright. Good night.”
Chrissy closed the video caller. She went back to the scanner list and
none of them showed any irregularities except for the eight that had pinged
before her call with Tim. How was that possible? And especially for an
animal as big as this one seemed to be? True, they had all come down to the
deep sea research facility to document marine life on the seafloor and
possibly look for new creatures, but the possibility of finding something
larger than a blue whale and at the bottom of the ocean where only the
boneless horrors really lived—it was too much.
Chrissy didn’t sleep that night. The extremely strange animal haunted
her mind and she spent the entirety of the night staring at her imaging
dome, daring it to come back so she could see what it was. But, a part of her
truly didn’t want to know.
To be continued in The Leviathan

Also From Bryan C. Laesch
Remnants of Chaos: Chaotic Omens
“It was dark—it had always been dark.”
Azrael Chaos is a demon slayer for the Order of the Maleiorcum. While on
a job, he meets the beautiful Nissa Omen who can control the minds of
others with her dancing. After discovering a plot enacted by the forces of
Hell centered on Nissa, Azrael takes her to the monastery where he
completed his training to protect her. But things become more complicated
when Azrael’s old rival and suspected demon general, Mammon Zebulun,
takes an interest in her.
Before the forces of darkness can execute their dastardly plan for world
domination and turn the tide against God’s holy warriors, Azrael must face
the faults in his faith and find the strength necessary to save Nissa.
Let the Gothic Epic begin.
Bryan C. Laesch’s first novel is an eloquently written modern Gothic novel

with an average rating of 5 stars on Inkitt. Readers raved calling it an
"unexpected pleasure" with "great heroes" and "great villains." Remnants of
Chaos: Chaotic Omens left them begging for more.
Heroes of Majestia: The Company of Flight
On the magical world of Majestia, the child sorcerer King Jeremy the
Wicked threatens to sacrifice the kingdom of Talian to the ominous Black
Moon as his prelude to universal conquest. Talia, the princess of Talian,
learns through divination that King Jeremy is not all he seems and sets out
to discover the secrets behind his evil. To aide her, she enlists the help of
the mercenary Daven, a member of the archery corps the Company of
Flight.
Along the way they encounter twisted monsters, mad mages, a draconic
demigod, and a wacky sorceress. Stumbling their way through adventure,
romance, and evil, Daven and Talia forge their legend as they become the
first in a new crop of Heroes of Majestia.
Inspired by the works of JRR Tolkien, Terry Pratchett, Glen Cook, and HP
Lovecraft, Bryan C. Laesch has crafted a unique and entertaining fantasy
series. A new legend has begun.
Tales of Romance: Unlikely Lovers
Everyone is looking for love. Despite this, love is not easy to find, so who
would think romance could be found in the arms of a perfect stranger, in the
company of a hardened enemy, or even amidst a forsaken crush?
In Tales of Romance: Unlikely Lovers, love is put to the test against these
impossibilities.
Cuddle Buddies: Stephanie is your typical middle aged woman except that
she never married. Longing for some intimacy, she responds to an online ad
from 26-year old Nathaniel who is looking for a cuddle buddy. Their first
meeting is friendly enough, but can they remain just friends with cuddly
benefits, or will their passions overtake them?
Bipartisan: Maddie hasn’t been able to get along with her coworker Darian
since the last major election. But when Maddie’s car breaks down during a
storm and two shady characters offer to help her, she has no choice but to
weather the storm at Darian’s apartment. Forced to strip of her soaked
clothes and wear his old hoodie, the situation is quite awkward. But in this
close encounter where humanity is borne, old prejudices are challenged.
Reunion: Eleanor is attending her 10-year high school reunion. She’s

excited to see her old classmates until she runs into Anthony, her old
enemy. Although he tries to be friends now, she can’t see past their bitter
history. But as the night progresses, Elle begins to realize he’s everything
she’s ever wanted, rekindling her former crush on him.
The Passion of Gloucester and Sinéad: A Pseudo-Shakespearean Play
The kingdom of Albion has enjoyed an unprecedented era of success in war

and foreign diplomacy thanks to its guild of assassins led by the Duke of
Gloucester and the kingdom's elite knights led by Gloucester's niece, the
Captain Sinéad. But the old foe, Calais, general of the forces of Gallia,
seeks retribution for suffering losses to them both, enacting a scheme that
will pit these two paragon guardians against each other and the Crown. For
the sake of Albion, Gloucester and Sinéad must find a way to reconcile
before Calais can ravage the kingdom.
Bryan C. Laesch manages to recapture the feeling and intellect of a true

Shakespearean play in this gripping new tale of souls and swords.
Included is a free copy of Love's Labour's Won:

Shakespeare's romantic comedy "Love's Labour's Lost" ended with a
cliffhanger in Act 5, Scene 2. The four courtly couples swore to meet again
after a "twelvemonth and a day," and upon that day, they would swear their
oaths and be together. But "Love's Labour's Lost" remained unfinished with
other plays ("All's Well That End's Well") taking the place of its conclusion.
Finally, after 400 years, one ambitious Shakespearean student undertook the
burden to see "Love's Labour's Lost" finished.
About the Author
Bryan C. Laesch is a writer from Metro Detroit, Michigan. Despite

academic success and showing great promise as a corporate man, Laesch
has chosen to pursue his true passion as a writer--a choice he sometimes
regrets when he looks at his bank account.
Like all writers, he has dreams of grandeur, desiring to be able to
measure up to the greats, like Stephan King, JK Rowling, JRR Tolkien,
William Shakespeare, Edgar Allan Poe, and HP Lovecraft.
Due to his over-inflated ego, he likes to call himself "Bryan C. Laesch,
the Omni Genre Writer," meaning no matter the genre, he writes it, despite
the evidence of his limited portfolio.
Currently he keeps a blog where he tries to live up to the Omni Genre
title, but his biggest pull is MBTI and the INTJ personality.
Contact Info:
E-MAIL: bryanclaesch@yahoo.com
BLOG: https://blaeschportfolio.blogspot.com/
FACEBOOK: https://www.facebook.com/thewriterbryanlaesch
INSTAGRAM: https://www.instagram.com/bryanclaesch
PATREON: https://www.patreon.com/bryanclaesch
TWITTER: https://www.twitter.com/BryanofAllTrade
TUMBLR: https://bryanclaesch.tumblr.com

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Tales of Horror

Macabre Monsters of Michigan

No portion of this book may be reproduced in any form without permission

Cover by Bryan C. Laesch

Becoming The Dragon

Subject: US Pen Pals: Greetings

Date: 25 April 2000

Subject: RE: RE: US Pen Pals: Greetings

Date: 29 April 2000

Subject: RE: RE: Stuff

Subject: Weird Creature

Subject: RE: RE: Weird Creature

Date: 17 June 2000

Date: 25 June 2000

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Becoming The Dragon

To be continued in The Leviathan

“It was dark—it had always been dark.”

Let the Gothic Epic begin.

Bryan C. Laesch’s first novel is an eloquently written modern Gothic novel

Heroes of Majestia: The Company of Flight

Tales of Romance: Unlikely Lovers

Reunion: Eleanor is attending her 10-year high school reunion. She’s

The kingdom of Albion has enjoyed an unprecedented era of success in war

Bryan C. Laesch manages to recapture the feeling and intellect of a true

Included is a free copy of Love's Labour's Won:

Bryan C. Laesch is a writer from Metro Detroit, Michigan. Despite

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