Friday, April 24, 2009

Daily Story 9: Shub's Lament

The creature before me was impossible, its very form breaking all laws of physics. Writhing, pulsating tentacles covered with eyes like sores wrapped around the pillars of the ancient temple, pillars that somehow didn't line up properly with the walls in some nauseating display of non-Euclidean geometry. The untold number of dripping maws opened and out poured a vile language of pain and insanity, every syllable threatening to tear reality asunder and snap my fragile human mind. My training had made me somewhat more than human, however, and after only the briefest pause I had translated the hideous sounds.

"Yes please," I replied, "two lumps."
One calloused, dripping feeler reached out of the mass balancing a teacup on its saucer as another lifted sugar cubes out of a matching dish - thankfully using small tongs to avoid covering the sugar with poison ichor. I noted that each sugar cube somehow had seven sides and three corners. Odd. I lifted the saucer and cup off of the unholy appendage and stirred it, impressed by the paper-thin china with its delicate pale blue pattern depicting flowers, stylized animals, and runes of ancient and unspeakable power. The tea was Earl Grey. "Delicious, madam. Please go on."

Once more violating the air my client continued, pausing only to cover several hundred foul orifices with Kleenex and emit a phlegmy blast of toxic gas. I listened, took notes, and finally stood to leave.
"Madam, I assure you I will do everything in my power to locate your child. I understand how worried you are since the tyke is only several millennia old, but chances are he was just summoned to Earth by deranged cultists. This happens all the time, and generally they stumble back within a hundred years or so with nothing worse than a tummy ache."
The godless temple was filled with the sound of a thousand nails on a chalkboard formed of pure misery.
"You're most welcome! I'll just hang on to his photo for now," I said, patting the album bound in the skin of an extinct race, "and let you know as soon as I find out more. Just hang in there - remember you have nine hundred and ninety-nine other children to look after Mrs. Niggurath."

I put the tea cup down and started towards the exit, knowing I would need to make some discreet inquiries at the local bar where all the... er...
Stopping my badass private-detective inner monologue, I turn back to my client.
"Madam... I think the front door is in a direction that doesn't exist. Is there possibly a back way out?"