literature

The Darkness of the North pt 2

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Dhampy's avatar
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Literature Text

In the shade of a giant dark tree, which I couldn't seem to identify by sight, I pulled my car off the road and planned what I would do.  I had brought along with me a case with the various articles of information I did have, and in it I had a list of telephone numbers for the county sheriff, who had notified Miskatonic of the death, and for the nearest state police office and some other governmental offices of possible importance.  My first task would be to notify the local authorities that I was nearing arrival; I decided that, as an agent of Miskatonic University, it would be rude to suddenly arrive, without any warning.  To wit, I called the number for the county sheriff.
Holding my cell phone to my ear, I heard static popping and mechanical clicks; as if the call was being forwarded through endless cycles of switchboards.  I was highly dubious of my success when finally I heard it ring.  It had not even completed a single ring when it was answered by a gravelley voice.  Through conversation, albeit with great difficulty in understanding, I gathered that Ulthar was the county seat of La Pointe County, that the county sheriff and a state trooper were waiting for me to identify the body, and I was given directions on how to reach the location.
It was night when I arrived outside of a vine-covered police station in Ulthar.  It appeared, to my untrained eye, to be in a sort of gothic style.  Although I lack knowledge to properly identify it and the vocabulary to properly describe it.  It was not at all what one would visualize when one was asked to think of a police station.  Parked on the street in front of the station were two aged squad cars of 1960s vintage and a modern state patrol truck.  Entering the station, I remarked upon the delicate tile pattern on the floor.  It appeared to be a series of concentric spirals and was quite interesting to the eye.  An aged woman at the front desk directed me down a steep set of stairs.
I descended down into darkness.  Unsure of my footing, I took the stairs very slowly—my hand in front of me, feeling the wall—and descended two half-flights.  I found myself in a hallway lit only by a dim bulb in an unoccupied desk far at one end.  I heard low talking coming from beyond it.  Walking to make my footsteps heard, I made my way through a smoothly swinging door and found myself in what could only be a morgue.  In one wall was a bank of cold chambers, and opposite them were three people standing around a gurney.
"Well, come on over," said a voice with a sharp northern Wisconsin accent, "on" was spoken with a long-a sound, "we've ben waitin' all evenin'."
I went over and observed a man in a lab coat, who had to be the medical examiner, a man in county sheriff's garb and a female state trooper.  
"So can we git goin' then?" the medical examiner asked.  In addition to a lab coat, which I noticed had a small splatter of blood on the left side, he had spectacular facial hair—a full set of steel-grey Ambrose Burnsides sideburns—and tremendously dark circles under his eyes, which were bloodshot to the point of seeming to glow in the dim light.  He smelled faintly of whiskey and his Wisconsin accent was sharpened with drink.  
I noted the sheriff.  He was porcine in appearance.  Rotund around the center of his body, he had a round face and an upturned nose.  And I noted the state trooper, trim even with the vest under her shirt; she appeared to be of Native American extraction.
The sheriff spoke he was apparently the gravelly voice on the telephone, "Now ya might not like what yer about to see."  I assured the assembled law enforcement officers that I was indeed sufficiently fortified for the task at hand.  
The medical examiner motioned down at the gurney and I first noticed the black body bag on positioned upon it.  He pulled it open to reveal the man I expected, and I confirmed that the body was indeed Adam Young.  The medical examiner then began to explain his findings.  The body had been discovered in a lake deep in the county, but there had been no water in the lungs.  He explained that this meant that Young had not been drowned.  Many bones in the body had been broken; but, he explained, apparently broken after death.  And now the medical examiner began to diverge into the bizarre.  The body showed evidence of great shifts in atmospheric pressure being exerted upon it; as if it had been at high altitude and then suddenly in the deep sea.  There were signs that it had been frozen for some time.  And that death likely occurred shortly before it was deposited in the lake, although Young had apparently gone missing some three weeks previous.
I had not been informed of his disappearance; apparently his colleagues at Miskatonic were accustomed to long periods without contact with their wayward researcher.
My task essentially completed, I inquired where Young's belongings were located and the sheriff answered that they were in the cabin where he had been staying, which was right on the lake where he had been found and that he could show me the way in the morning; as he said it was too late to be "venturing out into the wilds" and I should "stay close to the lights of civilization"; I made mental note of his words, as they seemed somewhat ominous.
"I'll show him around in the morning," the state trooper spoke up, "I need to take notes of the location for paperwork, anyway."  The sheriff nodded his assent and the three of us—myself, the sheriff and the state trooper—left the body in the care of the morgue.  Outside the police station, the sheriff pointed me down the street to a hotel where I could stay.  And he would see me soon.  The state trooper made arrangements to meet at the hotel in the morning.  And then I set out to find myself a bed.
Hmmm, part two. Not sure if I like this or not.

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Lambchop444's avatar
Wow. Great description so far. The entire first two paragraphs really brought me in. I could practically feel the temperature outside despite you not even mentioning the heat.

'...he had spectacular facial hair...' I love that line. That entire paragraph encaptured his entire personality with only a few physical descriptions.

Porcine is some awesome verbage that I haven't heard before.

'...too late to be "venturing out into the wilds" and I should "stay close to the lights of civilization"' I smell a plot coming on!

Seriously though, sounds like a great slide into the rest of the story. There's a lot that's been done to the body that is fairly inexplicable, and apparently something running around at night that's to be feared by the locals. And not to mention the fact that the town wasn't really on any maps to begin with.