Welcome Visitor: Login to the siteJoin the site



this my tribute to HP Lovecraft and his unique style of writing.


Submitted:May 19, 2012    Reads: 19    Comments: 0    Likes: 0   


"The oldest and strongest emotion of mankind is fear, and the oldest and strongest kind of fear is fear of the unknown"

― H.P. Lovecraft, Supernatural Horror in Literature

Dear Beatrice, I hope this letter reaches you despite my regretful circumstances. At this very moment I find myself unable to reach you and I can only hope that through some miraculous situation this letter arrives at your doorstep. When I left your side to explore the mighty seas, I was young, naïve and ambitious. But the things I have seen, they changed me.

It was a cold December morning when one of our men sighted land. We were running low on supplies. Twenty of our men had already died from disease and starvation. Twenty more were almost dead. The cold was unbearable. I cannot possibly describe to you how bad things were, but know that for every second I spent in pain, I dreamt I was back home with you.

We anchored on this Island. It was covered in beautifull jungles and monstrous mountains. While one might imagine that my first sensation would be one of wonder at such a magnific display of nature, there was something in the air which terrified me to my very core. We were going on a very known trade route. So it seemed to me very unlikely that this island was empty. It would be a very usefull safe port for resting and collecting supplies. And yet, here we were, not a single person on sight. Not a single ship nor signs that anyone ever stayed here.

Despite my awful feeling that this was very likely a terrible idea, we were ordered to set up camp for the night. That night I dreamt about pirates, gigantic ghost ships rising from the deep to take our gold. I also dreamt about you my love. I was back home, we were kissing near to that tree your grandfather planted. That peace would not last for long, for when I woke up the next morning, hell was taking over.

I heard screams as I woke up. Our captain was nowhere to be seen. People were running in panic and rolling on the floor in pain. As I approached the beach, I saw it. I still cannot believe in such madness. It's tentacles were grabbing our ship, they lifted it in the air and crushed it as if it was made of dirt. That thing was gigantic. When it rose from the deep, it's shadow could cover half of the island we were on. I ran, as far as I could. Behind me people were being smashed into nothing. The sounds that beast was making were unlike anything ever heard. I remember I hid in the middle of the jungle. I didn't know if anyone survived. I grabbed a pencil and a piece of paper I always kept with me and I started writing this letter.

I was hoping that he would leave, maybe some ship coming by could save me. But it was in vain, I realized it as the next morning came. The island started shaking, it was moving. Now I believe it is not an island at all. Remember what that Doctor Erickson used to say? About animals using strategies to avoid being found and killing it's prey. I believe I'm witnessing it being used on humans for the first time.

Tomorrow I will try to find a bottle to put this letter in. Never forget about me. We will meet again, I'm sure. In another place and in another time. Maybe in our next life, and then maybe we can be together again. Goodbye Beatrice, I love you…





0

| Email this story Email this Short story | Add to reading list



Reviews

About | News | Contact | Your Account | TheNextBigWriter | Self Publishing | Advertise

© 2013 TheNextBigWriter, LLC. All Rights Reserved. Terms under which this service is provided to you. Privacy Policy.