The Morningtide Observer - 13th August, 1927
Los Angeles’ Detectives Disappear in Freak Event
By Randolph Carter
On the 7th of May this year, a substantial number of detectives from Los Angeles were declared missing. Included in this group were Charlie Arno, Gray Becker and Ryan Chance, better known as Chancey. The only evidence of their disappearance is a letter in a bottle that was found off the coast of Washington State. Enclosed in the bottle was a collection of letters, diary entries and witness reports written by Gray Becker.
The detectives, by witness account of Mr Jim Foul, were sent to Carcosa in search of his estranged daughter, Amber Foul. However, after the ship had left port, it never returned. Police have reported that the contents of the bottle to be disturbing due to their graphic and bizarre nature.
To whom shall discover this,
My name is Gray Becker, previously a private detective and recently, a dead man. I write this from the depths of despair and shall be sleeping in the depths of the sea as retribution for the sins I have committed. I do hope, whoever finds this bottle, will piece together this collection of unsent letters and various documents. Please do not discard them as Apocrypha, for I fear this story does not end with me. This travesty began on the 7th of May 1927...
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Dearest Emelia,
It is unfortunate that I must inform you so late but I am leaving for an investigation which I can only call odd. I am writing this from the Vigilant, a cargo ship, its hum filling the air with a heavy and oppressive atmosphere. The sight over the cold metal rails of mud puddles and people too poor to afford housing in this cold winter drowned in the ship’s aura. It’s four in the morning and one could say this hour was for the odd jobs, those who had to wake early just to make payment for dinner in the night. Usually, I would be drowning myself in hooch, peering at the Union bank notice informing me of my debt while dreaming of your touch but instead I’m stuck here. Yesterday, a group of men came to every detective in town and offered a small deposit for agreeing to take this job which appeared to be a bounty on a simple murder. The only clues provided for us was the file of the missing person, a young woman by the name of Amber Foul and a ticket to this ship. Something in the air put me off even as I boarded but I knew I had to take the job, the bounty was big enough to make me rich. A few nervous glances were thrown around between the mass of detectives earlier and I spied some people you may remember. Red-eyed Chancey is here, that black suit with the Stillson logo shining and matching with his fluttering hair, giving him an undeniable aura of arrogance. The bastard’s still as cunning as ever and surely you remember me repeatedly complaining about how he takes my cases, even had the audacity to rent the damned office next to mine. I’m ever so slightly more skilled at investigation but he has an edge on every other department, especially manipulation… I remember this one time that he ran circles around the entire City of Angels crime syndicate, but that’s not important. I want to say it’s luck because of his name, but he’s sharper than my bloody razor. Earlier today, his eyes met mine for a moment and almost pierced right through me. I could see a smirk running to his face before he turned away, he knew he made me livid.
I digress, The boat had suddenly begun to churn and jolt into action. They headed us to a location they called Carcosa. From what I could tell it didn’t even exist, no mentions on anything official, only some stories of a paradise lost to the ages. The people heading the voyage said it was next to point Nemo, wherever that is. Part of the wrought iron deck was covered by yellow vomitus as the first of us had thrown up. It was old Charlie, you remember him right? Sixty-eight now with hair grown completely white and skin wrinkled as if he had been in a sauna. The only thing new about him was a tan suit which is now covered in muck. He’s too old for this business, should’ve been a mechanic, he’s got the skills for it. His cheap wedding ring had been glued to his hand for years, it's obvious she’s dead.
I shall speak to you shortly in person, Emelia, I’ll make quick work of this. You should organise for some time off when I get back.
Yours only,
Becker
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8th of May, 1927
The true journey only began three-quarters of the way through our voyage. It’s uncharacteristic of me to keep a journal yet a dark chill in my spine makes me feel as if I should. The cold wind had spread across the deck and our boat was thrown into eclipse from a sudden bout of fog in between us and the Sun. The fog felt heavy and emanated an unearthly dark glow. The entire sea was shrouded in cold shadows and then the noises began. Strange gurgles and grunts off port and starboard. I attributed the sound to large schools of fish hitting the side of the boat. I hate fish but I hid it better than my colleagues who were busy throwing nervous glances at each other. A few of them shook, but me, I didn’t flinch for a moment. I’m not a captain or a fisher but I remained rational. A disgusting rotten stench filled the ship not long after, reminding me of a corpse from a previous case and I almost threw up from the smell alone. It felt like an eternity before we rocked against the grey sand and chewed out wood of the Carcosan port.
A bloody paradise.
The dark fog that eclipsed the sun spread across all parts of the visible island with only eerie aquamarine lamps holding out against the insidious darkness. The streets were paved with gravel and every building looked like a temporary boathouse and some with bloodied stains. Not far along a black and white beach there was a rotting whale. A closer look revealed that the whale had a number of precise lacerations. I was momentarily distracted from the sight and stench by a man in a bespoke golden suit. I’d never seen a suit quite like it. The man donning it had an eyepatch and a cane; his visage resembled a malnourished sea captain. His voice was congruous to his appearance as he screeched, “Welcome to Carcosa!” and I felt like punching him for the ‘nails on a chalkboard’ sounding voice, I held back though. The man then led us through greetings individually and allowed me the freedom to write this in the car drive up to the mountain, guess it was worth it that I didn’t punch him.
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9th of May, 1927
Something is wrong, it isn’t right.
I’m beginning to question if what I see are but dreams and I am forsaken by this world. My memory of the past events are quickly fading so I will document them in finite detail as I fear they may be vital if I am ever to return...
It was not long ago that we arrived at the chilling estate of Château de Rêve Brisé. A harsh wind sung through our window creating a sense of discomfort with the distasteful and unnaturally shrilling voice of air. I understood why they named this place such an ominous title when the gates of dark and rusted steel entered my periphery. Thick stone walls, suitable for a prison rose on either side of us and were visible deep into the forest. The entire estate was surrounded and isolated by these woods where light never flowed, snuffed out like the hope of a sailor when blood meets water. The other detectives shivered incessantly, I could not tell whether it was from the chill of the air or the cold feeling of despair lingering in the air that radiated in the area. The mansion itself was forged from a dark wood, it was generally in good repair despite patches of rot. Light came from flickering candles in the odd window. A single lantern lit the forefront of the mansion as they led us inside.
A sickly smell filled the air when the door opened, one of rotting wood and something else. The others rushed away to follow the scent. The remaining others roamed around other directions but I was left alone as something more subtle caught my attention. There was a dark yet almost invisible stain next to a pristine wall. I decided to inspect it further. The scent of wine was subtle yet evident in the shadow of a stain left on the carpet yet not the wall. Ingenuity became a necessity as time was of the essence. Mere moments would pass before someone would return. I tried pushing parts of the wall, there didn't seem to be a strong reaction so I quickly tore the wallpaper apart. What greeted me was a wall of ancient runes I could not decipher and in the center was a discrete keyhole. This wasn’t an uncommon situation, half my career relied on sneaking into places I shouldn't be. A bobby pin and a paperclip were produced quickly from my pocket and I prayed that the lock wasn’t overly complex. The sound of feet tapping could be heard not far away and my hands moved dexterously clicking the first pin. My thoughts sat upon the bounty. A second pin clicked and the footsteps sounded like they were just through the wall. That final pin clicked as Chancey turned the corner. Glaring upward at him, that smirk reappeared and he simply turned around and started to delay the others. “Hey, did we check under the floorboards back there?” I simply sighed, slightly defeated and pushed the door in again, this time it opened silently. I dived into the gateway and slammed the door shut. That bastard…
The darkness of the room was pervasive and I drew my flashlight. It almost felt like tendrils of insidious darkness had slowly seeped into the beam of light but I wasn’t dissuaded as I stalked forward in what appeared to be a tunnel of crumbled and slippery stone bricks. Not far away were two pillars, one appearing to be a pedestal and the other a lectern. I peered at the pedestal and found a blade of unusual material. Its handle seemed to be made of a dark and necrotic bone. It was evident that it was not wrought from a human and looked almost as if it was a wing bone from a bird yet far larger. The blade itself was a sharp silver yet held a glint of purple, an unnatural colour for steel to my surface-level knowledge. A few runes were carved into the blade and hilt but I could still make no sense of them. I picked it up and stashed it in my satchel before moving to the pedestal. My attention was then drawn to a withered book upon the lectern, the title I could not read but just the sight of it caused my soul to quake. A deep shiver entered my body and the visage of an eye in the centre of the book met mine. The eye in the centre did not have a pupil yet instead the entire lens was a dark abyss. I do not know how much time had passed but I found that I lost my bearings and only left my stupor when I felt as if I was being watched. The hair on the back of my neck was raised and I tried to gaze at my surroundings but felt my eyes refuse to look away from the eye, as if I had entered a staring contest with the devil.
My next actions were poor and rather unreasonable but I had no other method in thought to free myself from the book’s invisible chains. The ethereal bindings forged around my mind drew me to the book as a bead of sweat dropped from my chin. The lighter in my pocket was drawn into my hand in seconds as I placed it toward the book. The flames covered the book and the lock on my mind seemed to unleash. As the flames reached the eye the book itself writhed as if it were made of hundreds of worms and not paper. Tendrils of dark flesh shot out from it and one even attached to my arm. An immeasurable pain entered my body and fear ran rampant through my mind. Under the skin of my arm I felt an insidious, writhing feeling which caused me to pull away with much force. The flames had turned purple upon the flesh of darkness and continued to run their course, one tongue even ran towards me over the tendril that connected us. Many other tongues, however, covered the roof and walls lighting the moss and running toward the mansion itself. A moment before the flame made contact with me, I found the pain of the tendril subside and was subsequently thrown to the side from the pulling force I had exerted before. I fell into a breakout sprint of adrenaline and shoulder charged the gateway between me and safety. The entire room was covered with flames and smoke from the burning moss quickly entered my lungs. The door seemed to not budge at all from my efforts and I found I could not do anything, the doorknob was covered in the purple flames and I stared behind myself to find a wall of the same medium. I decided to take a gambit and reached through the flames with both hands to tear open the gate, a burning sensation filling my body. I could smell burnt flesh as I reft the door across the entire room.
Once the door was ripped open my adrenaline left me and a deep exhaustion filled my body, I peered down at my watch and realised that many hours had passed and the exertion on my mind from the Eldritch novel had lasted far longer than previously thought. I staggered aimlessly toward the mansion door and turned back once to watch it all light like a pyre, hoping some would escape my mistake. The shock of these bizarre events began to kick in as I coughed out my bloody guts onto the ground. Consuming my last ounces of strength, I threw myself out the mansion’s door and collapsed into the gravel and dirt. An immense pain flashed through my body and I could feel my consciousness slipping. I looked up to push myself for a last ditch effort but simply fell as I gazed toward the ever seeing red eyes of Chancey peering down at me. That same damn smirk was on his face behind the smoke of a cigarette lit in his mouth. He was waiting for me, the bastard.
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A moment later my eyes cleared and my gaze became enamoured with an unnatural emerald sky. It would have been beautiful if not for an apprehension settling in my mind. My body began to sink slightly into what felt like mud and my tired muscles failed to prop my head up, having it only fall to the side. As the ground on which I lay entered my vision, a rush of adrenaline forced me to my feet. I stood in horror as sticky blood dripped down my body falling from the sky above. Under my feet was a mixture of blood, guts and excrement. I felt ill. Peering away from the disgusting sight I found myself before a foggy, aquamarine sea. I scrambled into it, trying to wash away this isle of death, no logic present in my mind. The fog infected my lungs with anxiety and disquiet and I turned back to face the crimson land, but it was no longer there.
A panic filled my mind as I turned in the disquieting sea. All directions seemed to expand limitlessly into the horizon with no signs of land, life or even death. I was truly afraid, for one of the first times in my life. The sky began to darken… like a tempest was upon me. The sea rocked and swayed, waves picking up under the surface of the water. The cold ocean was somehow warmer than the now freezing air. I began to struggle to keep afloat, as if my weight had been increased. I was the sole item in this entire sea, isolated, alone. A surge of current flowed behind me and I turned in fear for the origin of the disturbance but… nothing.
This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.
I stared at a monster that wasn’t there.
I thought it over my head began to spin and I fell.
Down, into the murky darkness, struggling against the awakened tide.
As the surface light disappeared I was left in an empty void.
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It must have been a pain induced nightmare as I found myself seated upright in one of the cars from earlier. Blood rushing to my head blurred my vision. Pain flowed through my body as I attempted to move, my muscles involuntarily spasmed and I only now noticed the ringing in my ears with blood, the sweet nectar of life running from them. I was sure I had broken a rib. After a short time the pain began to subside. It took me a moment to notice my hands were not burnt to cinders but absolutely fine. I thought it must have been a hallucination. I lifted my shirt and the sight filled me with a deep horror.
Underneath the fabric my skin molding around itself, wriggling as if filarial worms had infected my body. It moved unnaturally as they disconnected and reconnected. My eyes surely deceived me as at certain points, my internal organs were exposed. My head peaked out the window and my stomach began to empty its already lackluster contents on to the ground. Honestly, the puddle of bile reminded me of home. When I had next checked my stomach it had not returned to normal but instead had formed into a dark and festering wound which appeared like necrosis yet held no pain. I began to think my morning whiskey had been laced with a drug.
My only hope is to escape this hellish nightmare of a place that they called Carcosa.
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Witness Account - Gray Becker - 9th, May, 1927
A diary no longer seems appropriate for this tragedy. My last writing was long and filled with what some would call horror, yet what I have transcribed to you is only a glimpse of the event horizon that is this endless abyss. Please be aware of the foul decanter that I am about to open to the world in these passages.
No sooner after I had escaped the car, the pungent smell of iron leaking out from the forest filled my nostrils. After a short scramble towards the opening of a forest path I found my eyes glued to the everwinding path of crimson. Not loose drips from a wound but an entire trail of viscera. Sweet, putrid bile entered my mouth before ejecting over the ground. My vision rolled and I found myself staring up at the aquamarine mist, rolling over the stars and the entrails like the ocean over sand. I stumbled forward into the path of entrails, my impetus no longer the bounty. I found myself wondering why such a sickening hue of mist could be found everywhere on this god forsaken land, not that I really cared. I just needed a reason. Logic to explain anything in this wretched hive of madness. My thoughts were severed as the thump of feet rang out coming from further along the crimson path. An unknown force suddenly swept me to the side and dragged me behind a rock, my vision still swaying and the wind being dislodged from my chest. After a moment regaining myself, I realised I was staring upwards at a set of familiar red eyes which glared back at me like a dagger. A cold glove was placed over my mouth causing me difficulty in breathing, mucus and vomit having combined in my nose. I found myself weak and unable to push him off until he held his finger up to his mouth as if motioning for me to remain silent. I nodded hurriedly as my breath was running out. He finally took his hand away, allowing me to regain my breath.
Not a moment after my breath had steadied, the source of the footsteps entered my sight. Countless individuals with black cloaks stalked into view, a mask covering each of their faces forged out of a black carapace. Several wore capes which flowed behind them. They were of a dark red hue, and were woven to form an eye which seemed to trap the soul in its infernal clutches.
A singular breath entered my lungs as it entered my view.
My body screamed at me to run for my life.
Before me was a beast of demonic proportions, not only was it two, three times larger than a man. Its muscles and tendons were slender like sticks. It appeared humanoid yet its flesh was of that black fibre that the masks were formed. An arm extended off either side of its torso forming into blade-like hands with bat-like wings protruding off of them. My soul shook the most when my gaze fell on its face, or lack thereof. Where a face should have been was instead a completely blank carapace, alike to the masks of the cultists, the only facial feature were two demon-like horns protruding from it’s head.
The image was burned into my mind and continues to haunt me even now. The only image worse was the fabric and blood that had ripped and stuck onto parts of the monster. As if it alone was not enough, an army of these monsters walked out from behind it. My face went pale and my blood cold, having to lean back on the rocks to steady my breath. Peering out again, a shiny piece of fabric caught my eye. A golden tear from what looked like suit fabric, never seen one quite like it, at least that was my initial thought. He was alive just this morning and yet now I was staring at what was left of him. I guess that’s what happened to the detectives… In this line of work, the only thing before money is your life. Chancey and I only shared a glance before we both skittered away towards the car. We arrived to find Old Charlie already sitting inside, trying to start the engine. I wish I had stopped him but Chancey yelled at the top of his lungs, “OI! THAT’S MY CAR!” causing Charlie to jump in shock, calming down after seeing it was us. Unfortunately, his appearance of shock reappeared moments afterward and I could only guess why. I did not take a moment to look back and leapt into the car, trying to turn the ignition key, the car simply sputtering. Charlie jumped out of the car and lifted the bonnet, taking a quick look before slamming his fist down onto something making the car hiss before starting, saying he was gifted is an understatement. Chancey dove into the passenger seat and whipped out his revolver whilst Charlie slid into the back seats. I slammed down the accelerator and the car skidded off, but not before I noticed something in the sky.
A dark beast hovered in the sky in front of us, its ghastly wings flapping without making noise. The only sign revealing the demonic mass from the night sky was a bloodstain that ran down its languid mass. Three blaring noises sounded out to my right as three pieces of lead flew towards the beast. The demon intercepted each bullet individually with the centre of its body, placing its wings behind it. Those three pellets of lead fell to the ground in front of our car. A thought surfaced in my mind and I screamed, “SHOOT FOR THE WINGS” in the most desperate voice I could muster. I could see Chancey nod out of the corner of my eye and three more lead bullets were sent towards the beast. Two rips appeared in the left wing and a gargantuan hole formed in the right as the monster came tumbling down toward our car. The monstrosity fell onto the hood of the car and dented it inwards, Charlie narrowly avoiding damage as a talon came screeching through the roof just in front of him. The talon was so sharp that instead of creating a grasp it simply cut through the metal like a hot knife to butter. I switched seats with Chancey so that I could write this and I hope to God we can arrive at the dock before I see one of those again.
We are only half way there and Charlie won’t stop sobbing in the back… Chancey’s knuckles have turned white and it looks as if he can’t stop gritting his teeth together… I myself allowed myself to fall asleep and I dreamt of something that I can only assume is connected to what is occurring, or perhaps I am mad.
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I’m not sure of anything anymore..
Keeping this diary seemed at first like a good idea yet the more I write the more dependent I feel on the anchor of these heavy words. I fear that if I ever stop writing I will lose myself to this… affliction… which runs throughout this land. I’m scared and I fear that this pervasive shadow of horror has seeped into my dreams. Just earlier I had an unsettling nightmare which I can only describe as… disquieting. As if… Nevermind. The dream itself I shall now document, not for fear that I forget, as I know that I won’t, but for fear that it is paramount to whatever is going on here, it’s just a feeling.
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I woke, startled.
My entire body was submerged by water and I struggled feverishly to return to the top. My body boiled and burned from the lack of oxygen and as I was about to reach the surface I found myself stopped by a thin layer of ice. I punched, I kicked, my entire soul ached for one breath of oxygen. I drew the dagger from the mansion and slashed through the ice, throwing myself out of the water the moment it broke. I gasped for air and suddenly the ice of the entire ocean melted into those endless plains of water I had seen once before. The sea was silent as a thin slice of moonlight shone across the tireless tide. Suddenly, the sea began to disappear from under my feet, out towards the direction from which I recognised the waves had come from in my last… dream? It felt so real I almost forgot that it wasn’t. The entire sea floor lay bare before me and my body cooled against the still soft and muddy sand. I closed my eyes only to be shaken moments later by a ferocious roar which felt unearthly and ghastly in all nature. My soul was shaken to its very core. My once brave and distinguished face felt taut with fear and awe as I gazed upward toward the… thing… that created the sound.
It was nigh infinite in height, stretching further into the sky than I was capable of envisioning.
Its mass was impossible to understand.
Its entire body writhing and stretching in disgusting ways that reminded one of worms digging into the skin of a person and eating away at their flesh.
Something in the center of its writhing mass was glinting into my vision as if it was staring at me. It might have been an eye but I am still unsure even now. My chest began to burn as if a thousand worms were digging inside of me and devouring my insides. The entirety of my soul felt as if it was shouting at me to run as far away from the being as possible. Then, darkness.
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Help… Someone
I thought it would be over once we reached the docks, but I was wrong. We arrived at the area where the dock should have been in almost no time at all, but what met our eyes was something from a dream. A low, almost ethereal hum could be heard as we stared up at a coalition of perfectly rectangular rock formations. Each rock formation was hovering slightly, some creating a sort of staircase to a plane we could see some hundreds of metres above us. The aquamarine mist was gathering to be almost solid as if it was coalescing inside of the cracks in the rocks. The strangest thing about the rocks was not the perfect nature of them, which already was enough to shock us, but the non-euclidean nature of its formation.
My body was forced forwards due to some unknown impetus, Chancey and Charlie following me from behind. Our movement towards the top was strange, although we could swear we saw the correct path clearly from the bottom, our walk was marked with strange curves and steps down which resulted in us going up. It was madness and I could not make heads nor tails whether this path led towards the heavens or down towards hell. Perhaps we were already there. We took a path that wasn’t there and began to finally arrive at our destination, the summit.
Before us was a blood-red circle with a warped five-pointed star in the centre. An eye was drawn out of an illustrious golden liquid in the middle of that star and its centre drew me in similarly to the eye from the book. Surrounding the symbol were the cultists from before along with the black beasts. As if controlled by some force, Charlie and Chancey were thrown to their knees and their pupils dilated before rolling into the backs of their heads. I wanted to run to them, to help them, but I found myself stuck in place, standing before the golden eye which I swore was further away just a moment ago. Two cultists with similar daggers to mine stalked up behind Charlie and Chancey, slitting their throats, efficiently, quickly. The sweet crimson liquid of blood did not seep out, instead, that aquamarine mist surrounding them began to coalesce into a dark, bubbling liquid and entered into the slit and covered their faces. Slowly, they began to morph, stretching in disgusting ways like an infestation of cockroaches was running underneath their skin. Slowly, their skin began to harden and stretch into a sinewy substance before forming over in a dark carapace. I could hear muffled screams as their backs cracked open and leathery wings began to spew out along their arms. Disgusting...
But I did not have time to even mourn for them. My time was coming as well and I stared down at that golden eye… My limbs moved without my control and I gazed up at the sky, wondering just what would happen to me. The cultists began to chant words that I wish I had never heard uttered, each word feeling like a cut of a knife and caused my skin to crawl. Upon that final syllable after what felt like a century, I felt a sharp, life taking pain on the left side of my chest… I peered down, my eyes shaking as I stared down at my own two hands covered in what looked like pure black tendrils holding the dagger that cut through my own heart…
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I awoke in that familiar dry sea, but this time the mass of dark tentacles had disappeared. Everything seemed smaller than before, even what looked like miniature mountains were daunted by my mass. It elated me, I was above everything… nothing could stop me now. My eyes turned from complete confidence to terror as I stared down. Gone was my body. In its place was simply a mass of crawling chaos, writhing darkness. I bent down in front of a puddle of water which I now realised was an ocean and could see a murky reflection of my terrifying appearance. Gone was my face and in its place was the mask of those cultists. Through the only hole, I did not see an eye but instead, a tentacle seemed to squish in. How I was able to see I did not know. Just then I seemed to pass out from the shock of the visage I had seen.
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I awoke sometime later and stared down at my body, it appeared to be the same as in my dream… I wasn’t surprised. My heart actually felt cold. As I write these final lines of my legacy I am tying a brick to my ankle and am going to make an attempt to remove myself from this world.
I must ask you, my hope, that you have a brave and steel soul, enough to find a solution to this catastrophe. I do not believe this issue will end at my death, thus in this bottle, I also leave you my dagger in hopes that you yourself may kill me if I do not spend eternity resting in a watery grave. Please find me in cursed Carcosa and slay me as I stand.
Yours in death,
Detective Gray Becker.
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The police report for this case was almost immediately dismissed.
Nine missing persons excluding the estranged Amber Foul and no evidence other than these notes delivered in a bottle along with the dagger which has left every forensic detective confused as to its constituents. Despite Becker’s note placing it next to Point Nemo, Carcosa has not been located. For reference, point Nemo is the location furthest away from all landmasses on the planet. The police have concluded that Becker’s notes were ramblings of either a madman or clever deceptions that he also believed. In the end, this horrific tragedy has no real leads and some are convinced it is but a silly prank. The one-piece of irrefutable evidence remains, however, that none of those involved in this case have reappeared. Confoundingly, it was reported that Emelia Becker went missing shortly after the bottle washed ashore in Washington.
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