The Horrors Beneath Boulder

(This is an excerpt from a journal found in a used book store on Pearl Street; the owner was unaware that it was in his possession. The location of the house that it references so repeatedly is, at this time, unknown. Further research could not be conducted, as the few contents of the journal which this transcriber has read were too horrifying for sustained perusal. The “antiquarian home” may be presumed to be secluded somewhere on one of the wooded mountains overlooking the city of Boulder. The author, after some cursory handwriting analysis by a friend of the transcriber, has been determined as seventy percent likely to be Robert Shannon, a man of humble beginnings who, upon his release from prison for manslaughter in 1997, was surprised by an inheritance from an uncle he was unaware of any relation to. This seems to fit with many of the facts presented in the journal entries that have been read thus far.)

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It was a dark and stormy night. This had nothing to do with what I was finding in the vaulted basement far beneath my antiquarian home. It did not, as such, have nothing to do with what I was finding; It was connected in the same way that a beached whale in Japan is related to a tidal wave approaching Pennsylvania. The thought of that had, prior to this night, been weighing heavily on my mind; that too has little connection to what I was discovering in the vaulted basement far beneath my antiquarian home.

I apologize, to any future generations who find this journal. No mortal beings should be subjected to such horrors, even in writing. I leave this journal for no purpose besides warning all against seeking out the mysteries of the ancient house. I am wary to even write where the edifice is, for some unfortunate thrill-seeker will seek it out. I must leave that decision to my final judgment; when I have written all there is that I have found, if I am sane enough to remember it, I will include the location of my doom.

Dark things had once resided in that vaulted basement; that much was clear simply by seeing the exterior of the building itself. They were, by necessity, darker than the stormy night I did not know was outside. At the present time, I had the basement lit, so as to prevent the creeping horror of utter darkness from storming the fortress of my mind, already further crumbled than the house my body spent its time in. I had been down to the vaulted basement only once in my time owning that unnaturally sturdy antiquarian building, very briefly upon my inheritance, long enough only to realize that no light could reach down there by any means. I summoned workmen to install electric lights throughout the vaulted basement, and when they returned they told me uneasily that they had not encountered any problems with installing the lights. This surprised all of us to uneasiness, in particular the lead electrician, whose name was Harry S. He had never known a standard job to go so smoothly, and for a job to do so in such an old house, with such unpredictable circuitry, with wiring and lighting having to be hung from a colossal height was, in his expert opinion, impossible. After he and his workmen left, I determined to discover for myself what was hidden in that basement, be it normal or supernatural., but had since been waylaid for nearly a year by varied circumstances, included in which were such distracting contemplations as the nature of justice and, to my surprise, Chaos Theory.

Finally I had cleared myself some time to investigate the vaulted and now lit basement. I entered and sealed the door behind me that morning, when the television meteorologists were promising a continuation of the sunny and clear weather. I had chosen such a calmed and promising day to investigate the basement in order to quell my ungrounded fears that something horrible and familiar would be hidden within. For a time, I wandered the infinite storage room with very little thought of what I sought. I found dilapidated photo albums and tattered and tattering magazines of monumental ages. I found boxes also full of knick-knacks, globes, and text books, as well as one filled to swelling with broken watches. My own watch worked perfectly, which is how I knew that by the time I had completed my rounds of the meaningless photos and discovered the mirror, night had fallen.

The mirror fascinated me, for its frame was plain yet intricate. That frame was entrancing through this, and was a strangely smooth gold, with unfortunate carvings that looked by several hands on the corners. More unsettling was the switch just to the right of the mirror; it held my attention better than even the intricate and disturbed carvings on the mirror’s frame, for I had known myself to be the first resident of the mausoleum to use electric lights, and had not ordered a switch be placed anywhere besides just inside the singular door leading to the rest of the house. After some time spent worrying excitedly about it, I finally flipped it. The mirror lit up, revealing itself to be in actuality a window.

Oh, Gods, how I tremble at the very memory of what I saw there, beyond that looking glass! Oh, how I wish I had not seen it, how I wish I could live out the remainder of my days pretending there was not such a thing in this world as those horrible blind beings, the terrible eyeless creatures, the Dark Things that resided there! They seemed to dance a macabre game, though the rules and patterns I could not discern. I could not stand to focus on their motions to discern their reasons. I could focus only on their shimmering, black skin, giving them the terrible resemblance that they were furred. I could focus only on trying to tell one from the next-for there were certainly a multitude of them, this is doubtless-in that barely lit darkness, which stretched on forever. The population stretched on forever, inciting terrible visions of what they were possibly feeding on. More horrifying still was their uncanny resemblance to the common Lagomorph, the wild and gentle rabbit. They were certainly not rabbits; no, they were distant in all respects but the vague visual aspect of their shape. As soon as I saw this, I began to have terrible visions of the Warren-for that was all I could know it as now, a Warren of horrendous, unholy almost rabbits-rising up from the basement, and soon after consuming all who came near them. In my mind, they began to spread across the planet, consuming humans and all other creatures as if they were nothing more than leafy greens.

To my benefit, the Warren took no notice of me. In horror-unable to scream-I tremulously returned the switch to its off position, and made a mad dash for the door that would return me to my own familiar world, of mundane horrors and simple unknowns. I tore that wooden door open and slammed it behind me, not bothering to shut off the main basement light. For all I cared at that moment, the light could fight them back until the bulbs were drained beyond recall. When I was safely-as safe as I could ever be now, knowing that the horrendous Warren was somewhere beneath me-I uttered a scream that I heard, even after I stopped, echoing through the house. I crumpled to the floor and did not try to stop myself from sobbing.

When I finally awoke, light was shining in through the windows. It was morning, and I was not startled by this. Nothing so mundane could startle me anymore. I resolved then and there to eliminate the horrible Warren before it could spread from its unknown origins beneath my home. Yet, I had, and still have, no idea how to eliminate such horror...

I swear to you that something unspeakable resides in Hellems. Something... Lovecraftian. It howled at me.

I know naught what brought me there when I knew there would be nothing for me. It was closed to my entreaties, and yet I braved it in the hopes that I could hand my portfolio into the feeble-minded teacher's irrelevant mailbox. Oh, how much more irrelevant it seems now, and how much more feeble-minded we all seem! Regardless of the futility, I entered, and at first it seemed so ghastly empty that i almost laughed. Oh, I sweetly regard and miss the boy who would have laughed at that.

When I approached a door, a trembling wail picked up from behind it. It sounded as perhaps a mechanical device, perhaps a printer; but I doubt that it was truly that. It did not sound enough like one for it to truly have been a printer. That is just the approximation my mind applied to it, to cope with the terror that some long forgotten part of it knew lay beyond that door. I hope that it is to my fortune that this was not the door that I had come to pass through.

I advanced down the hallway, still that boy who would have laughed at the emptiness. I reached the end of it-though, not really the end, not quite the end. There was an alcove, one that I was familiar with; when I had to venture into its labyrinth-like basement, I always exited through that door, as it was nearest the stairs that I utilized as my exit. Beneath this door, both inside and out, lies another door-one that no normal person would find need to access. I have explored this door previously; as near as I could find, it was nothing but an ordinary door.

Next to the alcove, was a sign announcing that the English Department was closed today, due to the snow. Yet, I still advanced to the doors of the English Department. I approached the door smugly, knowing that I would not gain entry, but daring to explore still. The door had the same notice as was posted next to the alcove. I shrugged carelessly, and nearly turned to leave, when The Noise came once more.

It started out sounding just like the other noise had. But this time I feared to move, I feared to turn away from the door to leave. The Noise picked up, becoming a howling, an eldritch noise which defies description. It became louder, and angrier, and more of things that cannot be known to the human mind, yet are known now to mine.

I peeked through the darkened and smoked glass of the window. All inside was black, but for one spot. One spot, near the bottom right of the window, was stark white. My mind told me that it looked like a snowdrift, a snowdrift on a plain of utter blackness. I could not believe my mind this time, and could only believe my eyes.

Still The Noise, oh, The Noise, persisted!

I felt the terror fill my bosom. I knew that if I did not leave quickly, the howling, the snowdrift, the Noise, the Hellems Creature, would burst forth and consume me with true madness. I fumbled with my hat-under different circumstances, it may have been comical to me. Oh, it will never seem comical again. I backed into the alcove, nearly turning, fearing to turn and burst forth through the door, as quickly as my muscles would take me. I sped forward, I sped through the snow. I turned from the door, and out of the corner of my eye, I saw a light above the lower door come on. I dared not stop to investigate what it was. I knew already what it was, what it had to be.

I sped through the snow, not bothering to concern myself with balance. I did not fall. I did not dare fall. I turned once more, my shoes now filled with snow. I continued running until I was entirely past Hellems. Only then did I finally dare to look back. There was nothing visible pursuing me.

A howling erupted from the building that was next on my course! I nearly fell in despair, sure that the campus was ready to unleash it's Elder Horrors upon me so that none may ever know what little I had learned. But this sound was, happily, nothing more than the wind, brushing rapidly past the snow curved atop the building, whose name I do not care to know.

Still, I ran back towards my own building, Baker. Not with such the speed that I had fled from Hellems with, but with a speed which I could not replicate under casual circumstances. From Duane Physics, which I had just passed, I heard a whistling, and feared once more-it couldn't be with me now, my own building was in sight! Oh, how glad I was when I realized it was no more than the echo of a boy in the field, not much my elder, burying himself in snow for his own inscrutable purposes.


I was finally nearly at my building when a girl screamed from far ahead of me. I froze; were she in real danger, would I risk my own life against the Hellems Creature? I feared the answer may be yes, and I knew that before my life was ended by it I would be forced to face a thousand madnesses. But then she screamed again, and laughed. Fearing another distraction, I fled into my building.

And that is where you found me, a broken, scared man.