The Village in the Cliffs

I leave this note for those that come to find what has become of us.

I assume that all readers of this note will be familiar with the events leading up to expedition, but just in case, I shall recount the basic premise that lead us here.

In the early morning of June 12th, 1961, a sudden earthquake revealed a small village, nestled deep in the mountains. No record had ever been found of humans living there, and scientists estimated that the village had been buried easily a million years, causing speculation that some other beings had lived there in the early days of earth.

Professor Farnsworth of the Miskatonic University was elected to lead the expedition to explore that ancient village. I was simply one of his many students, but my knowledge of ancient cultures, and myths of beings from before the time of Man, impressed him enough that I was allowed to come with him.

Our party consisted of a total of twelve people: Myself, Professor Farnsworth, Matthew Winters, a fellow scholar of ancient myths, recently released from prison after it was proven that his former partner had died in a cave-in (rather than having been murdered by Mr. Winters, as it was formerly believed), William Roberts, the man in charge of our equipment, Terry and Phineas Fern, Mr. Robert’s assistants, Dr. Pratchett, the famous archaeologist, and several other students that had come along to help transport our materials, and would not be coming to the village proper with us.

~~~~~

The helicopter took us to a base camp halfway up the mountain, though we would need to hike the remainder of the way. The other students stayed at this camp to relay messages between Professor Farnsworth and the outside world.

We felt it best to split into several small groups for our hike up to the village, in case there were any other undiscovered ruins along the way. The Fern brothers made up one party, Dr Pratchett and Professor Farnsworth another, Mr. Winters and myself the third, and Mr. Roberts went on his own way. We were each equipped with a radio so that we could remain in contact, and it was through this radio that we first came in contact with the grim reaper.

As we walked, Mr. Winters told me what he remembered of the events leading up to the death of his former partner – a fascinating tale of ancient crypts and horrid beings in the bowels of the earth.  He admitted that even he did not fully believe the story any longer, and felt that his memories must have been the result of a head injury sustained in a cave-in, but I enjoyed the tale nonetheless. He was a fascinating man to speak with, a fellow expert on the subject of sinister cults, the mysteries of the Necronomicon, and the like.

We stopped halfway through our walk for lunch, and were midway through our sandwiches when the voice of Mr. Roberts echoed from our radio. “Doctor, Professor, come quickly! I’m in the village, found a shortcut. It’s amazing, the statues! They’re…they’re-Oh God! Oh GOD! No! No! NO!” And with that, our radio went dead.

We stuffed our unfinished meal back into our sacks and broke into a dead run, not stopping until we met up with the others at the entrance to the village.


~~~~~


The Fern brothers had arrived first, and had been searching the nearby houses for any sign of our missing companion, until at last they found his radio upon the floor of one of the larger houses.


I say houses, but not in a way that a human would consider a home. They were all giant, with the smallest being easily ten stories high. They had no windows, just a sort of skylight shaped like a nine-pointed star. A system of polished silver reflected the light from the skylight throughout the buildings, guiding it to land upon certain odd black stones placed throughout the house.

The house had only one door, a huge hexagonal portal made of the same black stone as was lying about the buildings. The stones themselves were unique – extremely heavy, but small, and hard to the point of being unbreakable. They gave off a faintly metallic smell, and nobody in our party was able to spend too long near them before they began to feel extremely uneasy.

Upon finding the radio, the brothers had decided to stay and wait for the rest of us to arrive. Now that we were all present, we began to search every house in the village one by one, slowly moving inwards, towards the center of the village.

While Mr. Winters and I were examining one of the more unusual houses – a building filled with hundreds of tiny sculptures of some sort of tentacle being, similar to a statue of Great Cthulhu located at the Miskatonic University -, our radio spoke again. It was Professor Farnsworth. “Doctor Pratchett, where are you?” We heard one of the brothers answer. “Is he not with you, Professor?” “No! I turned my back a moment, and he was gone!” “Didn’t you hear anything!” “Now that you mention it…” The professor fell silent. “Professor?” No answer. “Professor?” The brothers sounded nervous. “Professor? Are you there?” Naught but silence.

Mr. Winters picked up the radio now. “Terry, Phineas, come back to the entrance. We need a plan.”


~~~~~


We discussed our situation awhile, eventually settling on a plan of action. We had attempted to contact base camp, to no avail, so the Fern brothers would head back down the mountain to our base camp, where they would send for help.  Meanwhile, Mr. Winters and I would continue our search of the village, remaining in contact with the brothers at all times.

Mr. Winters and I continued our explorations of each of the houses, discovering nothing more interesting than more black rocks and some disturbing statues. Finally, we arrived at the center of the village, where we discovered a gaping chasm. We peered in, but could not see bottom. Mr. Winters tossed in a large rock, and we both waited for the sound of impact. We stopped waiting after ten minutes.

There was one structure near the chasm, different from all the others. It was conical, without the skylight found in the other buildings, and surrounded by statues of inhuman monstrosities the likes of which the English language cannot describe. We searched around the building, but found no entrance. We were considering our course of action when our radio crackled to life for the final time. “Oh God, they’re dead!” “Who is dead?” Mr. Winters asked. “Everyone! There was a rockslide of some sort, everyone in the camp is dead! They-“ His voice was suddenly cut off by an agonized, inhuman scream, followed by silence.

“STOP IT!” Mr. Winters suddenly yelled, hurling his radio to the ground. “Whoever you are, stop! Why are you doing this to us? What have we ever done to you?” He stared up at the sealed structure, as if daring some malicious entity to emerge and challenge us. Nothing happened.

“Matthew, look.” I said. “Look in the pit.” “What are you talking about, Felicia?” He asked. “We didn’t see anything in there.” “But I see something now.” I said. “It’s like…a staircase, of some sort.” Curious, he stood beside me and peered into the darkness. I swiftly took a step backwards, and shoved him with all my strength. His scream echoed for half an hour as he fell, and then finally, he was gone. Out of range, into the depths from which no sound can escape. He is there still, there with the crawling Things that will make a slave of him, and will be there evermore.

Satisfied, I walked to the sealed house - my house -, and pressed myself into the wall, feeling it turn gelatinous to allow me entry. It was as I had left it, all those eons ago. My statuettes, right where I left them. My carvings, showing a map of the stars. Everything. Carefully, I walked about the building, free at last of that revolting human disguise, free to dance as myself once again. I gathered up everything that I wished to take with me, and exited the structure once more.



I am leaving this notice in a place where it is likely to be discovered, even after the next earthquake occurs in a month’s time and seals up the village again. I leave it as a message to all you humans: this is your world, now, but we ruled it once, and we will rule it again. You will know the day, when R'lyeh rises from the sea, when the black stars circle once more above Lost Carcosa, when the King in Yellow claims his throne again, when our wings cover the sky and blot out the sun. You will know, and that day, we shall ascend. Humans are naught but bacteria to us, microbes not worthy of our attention. That day will come, and to us, infinite eons can pass in a moment. We will rise, and you will beg to die. And we will not grant your wish. That day will come, sooner than you think.

Know my proclamation, and fear.




Publisher’s Note: This notice was found nailed to a stone in the ruins of the base camp. When a month had passed with no contact, a search party was sent, where they found that the village had been buried by another earthquake.

I am tempted not to mention this final detail, for it is fantastic and unbelievable, but I have decided to reveal all the facts. One member of the search team, while attempting to push aside some rocks, suddenly let out a horrid scream and leaped away, slamming another rock into the small gap he had made. When questioned as to his behavior, he began to mutter “huge…it was huge. Bigger than any mountain. Tentacles that break into others…too many eyes. Why did it have so many? Always squirming, squirming, writhing…Iä! Iä! Shub-Niggurath!” And with those words, he broke free of his party and leaped off the mountain to his death.