Board Thread:Writer's Showcase/@comment-26867018-20150808001425

A man who searches for the truth must be one who asks questions whenever they come to mind. As I am one of those, I entered the crime scene expecting the worst. The room was layered with a cobblestone floor and rotting spruce wood planks lining the walls. I walked into this room and noted the horrid odor from the body-- JESUS CHRIST-- the body was like nothing I never seen before. In the room was a body that looked deflated, shaved from head to toe, and the only wound on the body was a large cut from the adams apple to the belly button. I crouched next to the body was astonished with horror, “How is there no blood or organs?” I looked at the star shaped tattoo on the right hand. Placing it down I made my way to his stomach, putting on gloves, I wondered if the organs were just left in the body. As I opened the cut carefully I was even more puzzled at what I saw, a violet colored mucus like substance was the only thing inside him. At this point I realized I was all alone in the room, I walked over too the window looked out into the sunny daylight. The police were still there and probably forgot I was inside. At this point I realized that I may see better with the room light on, up until that point I saw just fine with the natural sunlight. I flicked the light switch and looked up at the lamp, to my interest there was a small misshapen ball like object in the lamp. Removing the object was not difficult, what was difficult was holding in the shivers when I realized it was a stomach, holding it in one hand with a fraction of small intestine wrapped around it ending with the intestine wrapped up like a bow. With a small note written in calligraphy with my name on it. Holding back the urge to vomit I unraveled the organ and after looking at it pulled out a small Tupperware container with more of the slime in it and another note. “With Love Detective” and a small picture with the words “crack den” the picture was of a wall of pale wood, and the words “crack den” were connected to the picture in the form of orange lines. “Leave the rest of the case notes on my desk captain.” I called out to the Police chief as I stepped into my car and drove away with the container still in my hand. And buried in the slop was what resembled a square mouth.

I sat at my desk and eyed the container with the stack of papers about the case right next to me. Then like a flash, one of the blue boys entered. “Detective?” he said panting “we need you at the cabin at lake long claw.” I sooner left as I arrived, and the cabin was covered with pale wood and a lantern out front. The Police cars were parked out front but again, when I entered the police stayed behind, Chief says its “to let me work.” Inside was a marijuana farm. Cannabis from the front of the cabin to the back. I looked around “just pot” my brain told me “where is the crack in this crack den?” I said talking to myself. I then came up with a theory which lead me to the den of the cabin. Surveying the den I found the same wall as in the picture without thought I ran into the wall and it broke into fragment as I fell into a room with only one thing a well with a ladder attached to it. As I look down the well I see nothing but darkness and dust. But what I hear is what sounds like a child's music box, playing every note at once in a constant state of repetition. Knowing I had to go down there I stepped on the first step of the ladder. When suddenly the steps broke and I fell 25 ft to the soft wool like floor. I landed with my flashlight and gun still where they should be on my belt, I took the flashlight and shined it down the path that laid in front of me. Steam was in the area and thus I removed my coat and made sure everything I needed was on my person. Weapon drawn I looked down the way stating to myself “Well Nate, you need to do your job.”

I traveled for 5 minutes with the sound of the music box building up as I continued down the way. Then I felt a squishy substance under my feet which was... of course the fucking violet stuff which I then noticed when I smelled it that it smelt of dried blood. At the end of the way was a rock ledge, which I crouched behind so I could not be seen if anyone was in there. To my astonishment before me lay around 50 men bowing, as if in an Islamic prayer. “no” I whispered to myself “no way this is any Islamic group.” When I checked again I saw one man exactly like the man at the crime scene. Wearing absolutely nothing and brandishing a knife. The man stood before the people, raising the knife “My equals.” he screamed “Today will be the day you see what Romcha and his blood will do to those who allow its nutrition to overtake you.” I was intrigued to see what this was. The man then took the knife and cut himself from throat to stomach and said “Feast my equals, become the new equals of Romcha.” The men all stood and slowly lined up single file over to the still standing man and drank what I realized what they were drinking... The violet mucus, it repulsed me and then I knew I saw enough and saw the people now, after drinking the shit, leaving the cave from a strange mouth like door. The only way to investigate it further was to fall down a 100 ft drop onto bedrock. I saw the same deflated figure of the man, left just like the first crime scene, and the mouth door was gone. I turned around and went back, after struggling I climbed my way out of the well and left the worst thing I ever saw behind me.

I never told the Chief all of the details because I believed I would be straight jacketed for giving this clearly unbelievable story. I told the Chief it was just a sacrificial cult and thats all I found out. I began therapy for what I told them was a dream. I take H.P. Lovecraft to end my life saying “Who knows the end? What has risen may sink, and what has sunk may rise. Loathsomeness waits and dreams in the deep, and decay spreads over the tottering cities of men.” That Cult still exists and whatever Romcha is, will be coming for me. 