(CCHWC) Agartha

I'll be posting the next three parts over the next few days. I hope you guys enjoy, glad I could actually contribute this year.

I
I came to my current state by a series of unavoidable events and unfortunate mental slips, these slips and events, however, were spawned of something which can not be called a mistake and can not be considered a hallucination, regardless of how I wish them to be and despite what other, educated, minds have persistently posited. It is because of these terrors beyond words that I find myself in this constant and perpetual state of disarray which has been broken only by the night I write this, my final testament. This merciful and numbing state of disarray I speak of is perpetuated by a regular dosage of some cheap and nefarious type of morphine which was only to be found in the hands of a small town doctor in the outlands of old Mexico.
Who I was is useless now; I shall never return to the life I lead only months ago. This path of degradation is all that is left to me in this world. The foundation of my being is shaken and my feet have lost all memory of the solid ground which they once stood upon. Nevertheless I find it necessary to describe, in this brief letter, the events which led up to this loathsome and decadent condition in which I find myself tonight and from which I shall never seek respite.
I made my living as a rescue diver for a private international organization which I shall not name. I had loved the water from an early age and rescue diving seemed to come naturally to me. I had spent my last few years working up to the rank I held at the time of this account, I had been deemed able to go about the world on our private contracts. We did whatever needed to be done, I was, as I said, a contract diver.
One month ago we were called to a small island in the Bahamas to search for a small group of children who had went missing while swimming in a small barachois. The locals abhorred the place and the children were all taught from a very early age to stay away from the area, although none of the locals could say exactly why it is they consider the barachois such an unlucky area, but whatever superstition lingered about the place didn’t matter because, at any rate there were four children reported missing, three boys and one girl. With this sombre knowledge we set off toward the location. My wife, at the time, always felt uneasy when I left, even for a short time; I reassured her with a short, but loving, kiss on her left cheek accompanied by a generous embrace. Her worried gaze followed me to the small plane and, I’m sure, into the horizon.
When I arrived to the island I accompanied a group of six men; one pilot, three other divers, one medic, and a commander. All of us were experienced and felt confident we would have at least the bodies of the children found and the sad case solved promptly. We expected the villagers frenzy upon our arrival, a mixture of fear, sadness, and confusion; what we hadn’t expected was the unwillingness to accompany our party to the site of the disappearance. The villagers wouldn’t go any closer than they had to to point out the assumed location of the tragedy.
Getting as far as the guides would go was a rough walk for us, unaccustomed to the somewhat densely forested topography of the island; our guides, on the other hand, had not one misstep throughout the entire three miles. The four men who volunteered as our guides were, although sure of foot and light of step, visibly tense; a quality I quickly attributed to the recent disappearances. There wasn’t much talk on the way, only whispers and ramblings of a cave system under the water and a creature of incalculable ferocity. These bits of local folklore were something of concrete reality to our guides and they would discuss not one word of it, out of fear or shame I assumed. When our guides found it fitting to leave us we thanked them sincerely and proceeded to lie to them about having high hopes for finding their children alive and well, they left us with solemn eyes and reserved handshakes, something about being sorry for doing this to us was heard by one of the divers.
We set up a base of operations and made due note of the mention of a cave system. Our supervisor said we would do a preliminary scan of the water before nightfall using sonar and shallow diving gear. We quickly suited up and got into the water to begin our sweep. The body of water was fairly small, only approximately three hundred feet wide and six hundred feet long. The sand bar which separated it from the sea was covered in plants I assumed at the time to be some strange mutated local growth; it was unlike anything I had seen up to that point and starkly stood out against the lush green foliage which surrounded it and the vast blue sea behind it. The strange growth resembled grass but was much thicker and meatier than what one usually thinks of. It was colored a sickly grayish green with spots of yellow and took on a fungeous blue tinge in the moonlight. The water itself was deep blue but terribly murky, which was somewhat surprising for this Caribbean area.
We preformed two sweeps before the night took hold upon our investigation. The first night was damp, the ocean brought in constant sprays of water and brief showers permeated the darkness with their lightning in tow. The next day brought less showers but it did bring cloud cover.
We started our dive early, we didn’t see much though; the night’s rain and the persistent overcast sky made visibility dismal at best. We were used to this sort of thing, however, and began feeling our way around. If life existed in this place it did not show itself. The sonar never picked up any fish and neither did our eyes. To be honest the water felt like a tomb. Perhaps because we knew it was one for these children.
With visibility and oxygen diminishing we surfaced, most of us. George Rupert, notorious for pushing the limits of his oxygen tank didn’t come up with the rest of us. Instead when we surfaced he swam down. He had wanted to find the bottom and nobody was going to tell him otherwise. We had all gotten used to George’s antics over the years so we weren’t too worried when, three minutes later, he still hadn’t come back up. But with each passing minute we became more anxious, finally with a mere ten seconds left of oxygen he surfaced with a laugh and a quick motion of flinging back his goggles and breathing apparatus. The cave system had been found.

reply to post by Mr Headshot

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Waiting for more. Has the same feelings when I first read Salem's Lot.

Nice.

II
After a rather short break, time enough to replenish our oxygen supply, we made ready to dive for the caves. I, along with Rupert, volunteered to be the first to venture down to that plutonian orifice. The other two divers would search the main body of water; the medic would stay directly above us in a boat and the commander would remain on shore with the pilot.


The water was noticeably cooler than it had been only moments before in our previous aquaeous excursion, I say this now in retrospect for I, myself, did not notice the drop in temperature; it was, instead, my wristwatch thermometer which sensed the odd fluctuation. I suppose, looking back, the adrenaline of anticipation warmed my body to the point of insusceptibility to the external shift in temperature.


Regardless of the chilly depths, there was a job at hand. As Rupert and I descended, he leading and I tailing behind with a short range of view, we encountered pockets of warm water which seemed to move past us. At the time we attributed these pockets to an underground current which linked the ocean to this barachois, a grim prospect indeed; if there was an outlet there was a possibility that the bodies of those whom we sought had been lost into the arms of Poseidon and were never again to be found.


Even in the face of such somber revelations we pressed on, not so much out of compassion as from a sense of duty to which I can no longer relate.
After a time the water became quite dense and with this density came warmth, strangely enough. George began slightly feeling around and promptly motioned me to follow; we swam into the mouth of an imposing cavern. At this point the water was saturated with a darkness which seemed material and thick. The darkness appeared to move, quite intentionally, into the dim lights of our headlamps. Shortly, however, we found an un-submerged cavern large enough to stand in and quickly made a landing on its slimy banks.


Above the water our lights seemed less dampened by the darkness. The density of the water, however, increased in the air, indeed the air felt unaccustomed to being breathed by human organs and did not allow itself to be taken in very easily. Indeed that place seemed undisturbed, and had possibly been that way for ages unknown. The ground down there was of a sickly texture. It was soft and leathery; it appeared to be somewhat like a spongy mud.


The cavern itself wasn’t awfully large, it was as big as an average bedroom, but from that cavern we could see a tunnel leading into a pitch black abyss. It appeared traversable by foot, however, and we decided to push into the system.


As we walked we remained mostly silent, our hearts were not light and our minds were certainly active. We needed to stay alert for any potential harbinger of harm. These ancient cave systems were prone to collapse at any time and we did not want to be down there if such a thing were to happen.


As with the rest of the area, no signs of life were present, not even the small, sightless species of tetra fish one usually finds in underground caves such as this. I was not altogether surprised at this though, what evidence had I seen to the contrary? This entire lake was dead, it seemed.


Eventually our march brought us to a small slimy, pointy mass which seemed lodged into one of the cave’s walls. Upon examination it seemed to be some type of remains, and rather fresh ones. At length we found them to be human, however not child.


The mass seemed to be mostly bone with bits of tendonous flesh hanging about here and there. Some scraps of cloth remained as well, although mostly torn. What flesh and cloth did remain seemed to be eaten by some substance which appeared to be acidic. Traces of the acid-like liquid still remained around the-what was once a body. It showed a cloudy yellowish tint in the light of our headlamps and had an unmistakable putrid odor. The stench still burns my nostrils, my lungs, my eyes, and my throat today.


Struggling to keep our stomachs down, we hesitantly trudged forward knowing this was probably our only chance to explore these catacombs. This cave, however, was not inviting. It had long since turned to a series of dark and twisting passages. We had gone several miles in and there was no sense in turning back.


It was about this time when our gear began to weigh down upon our backs, feeling the fatigue and wanting to conserve as much energy as possible for the ascent, we laid our oxygen tanks and breathing apparatus’ on the ground. George fumbled while fidgeting out of his tank and, as a result, dropped the device on the floor. He cursed loudly, afraid for wellbeing of his gear, when (in the stead of an echo from his curse) a low groan seemed to emanate from the bowls of the cave. George jumped with a start, I froze.

reply to post by Mr Headshot

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I love the way this is coming along Mr headshot. Very cool story. I didn't post in this before because I wasn't sure if you wanted anyone to yet. Can't wait for part three!

Yeah, post all you want guys. I'm glad you're enjoying it thus far.

I'm about start work on pt. 4, but I'll drag out the suspense on pt. 3 for a couple days to allow for editing and redrafting =)

cheers!

this may end up being 5 parts


III
With that groan came a terrible odour which seemed to permeate and saturate the already dampened air. The odour was accompanied by hellish wind, hot and thick. It smelled dead, like rotting organic matter. We had estimated there must be an outlet somewhere ahead for such a wind to come through.

George and I began to pick up speed toward wherever that wind was assailing us from, but as soon as we began to jog in that direction the wind ceased.

Presently we found ourselves in front of a series of long and winding tunnels branching off in four different directions. Making the safe decision to stay together we made our path straight ahead.

In the absence of the wind the stench lingered, it stagnated and weighed down upon our senses. It became stronger as we plunged forward into that abyss.

After taking a series of confused turns something changed. I noticed it first and alerted George. What I noticed was a consistency difference in the floor beneath our feet, not only was is springier, as opposed to the sponginess of former tunnels, it was thicker to the step.

Shining my, now fading, headlamp down to the ground I was stunned to find what we were treading upon was that very same mutated grass from the shoreline on the sandbar.

Seemingly, with the newfound light, the grass suddenly began to take on an eerie glow, that same blue phosphorescence which I had noticed in the moonlight above water. With this glow, however, came something horrifying; it began to move, to sway back and forth, slowly and barely noticeable at first but as more of these blades of grass woke up the more apparent it was. It was a disgusting sight; each blade was groping toward the ceiling in the mass of confused undulation. Horrified by the spectacle which assailed us, and with as many of these things behind us as ahead of us, we tried to run forward and past this hellish carpet, but, much to our dismay, after almost two hundred feet we realized that our dimming lights had failed to penetrate the dark far enough for us to see that the tunnel which we had chosen was a dead end.

As if to add to our frenzy, the things, which I now recognized as small tentacles, had noticed us. They groped and clutched at our feet, some of them were able to reach as high as our shins. They attempted to drag us down, under God knows what motivation. They made walking a difficult task; it was like having your feet stuck in mud and having that mud actively pull against you at the same time. Suckers latched on and off of our clothes, each one making a horrible, juicy popping sound as it came off.

We began to sprint with all our might, in a mad dash for the end of that gruesome tunnel, but, about halfway through, one had wrapped my foot sufficiently enough that, for a very brief moment, I fell. They moved around me, they clutched at me with a cold slimy grip I shall never forget; they felt for my mouth, my eyes, my nostrils; anything to which their suckers could grip.

As they turned me and tossed me I struggled to break free from them, what seemed like hours passed as I fought these innumerable things; George reached for me reminding me that seconds were an aid to this strange enemy. Grabbing me underneath my armpit, George was finally able to drag me out, and with one final heaving rush we made free of the atrocious spectacle.

Now exhausted, but safe from those tentacles, we rested. They remained in our view, the light had not left them yet and that blue phosphorescence filled the tunnel. I noticed something hanging from my belt while sitting. It was a child’s sandle, apparently in my struggle it had caught onto my tank. Our minds automatically rushed to the most obvious conclusion.

We caught our breath and decided that the best course of action was to go back from whence we came. We started back but quickly found the pat the distorted, whether because of our own disorientation or because of some strange shift, we knew not. At any rate, it seemed that the path had been altered from what we had both remembered.

The tributary tunnels, along with the original large tunnel which we had followed were altered to the point of impassability. The only course left to us was a very small, crawlspace-like passage.

We, very reluctantly and warily, proceeded down the crawlspace. The atmosphere became very heavy. The air almost clogged my lungs. My headlamp flickered then died.

I crawled now with a fury. My one thought, my one intention, was to make free of this constricting, confining, claustrophobic crawlspace. After a period of time immeasurable I emerged.

I fumbled in the blackness for the pack attached to my belt; I kept a couple chem. lights stowed in case of this very thing. I found the pack, fingered the button, and located the small plastic tube.

I was breathing very heavily, so heavily that, until the light began to shine from the light, I hadn’t noticed that I was the only one breathing.

I scrambled back to the tunnel; I threw the light down into that hole. I saw nothing. I could see the other side clearly, there was nothing which obscured my view, and certainly nothing alive and moving. George was gone, he had vanished, I was alone.

I could not make up my mind whether this story was completed or not. But the contest has been over a couple of days now, so I assume this is as far as you will take it at this time. I waited to make my comment until I was certain it was completed.

I want you to know I found this story to be beautifully written, and so very, very intriguing. I positively loved it. I read it twice, in fact.

What a fantastic story! I think you have spent time in underwater caves; as I have. It shows here in the most exciting way.

Yeah I didn't finish it, I got sidetracked with essays from school. But you've inspired me and I finished this just now. So here's the conclusion to Agartha. You'll forgive the grammar errors, I haven't edited it.


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VI

I lay in that dreary catacomb for an age of the earth. I found no escape, not even in the recesses of my own mind. I awaited death; I begged Ankou himself to come to me. Hope had been lost. My light had now totally failed me and, with it, had taken my will to exist.

At length my mind, my humanity, had left me; the beast inside all of us had fought its way to the surface and so brought itself to bear on my outer being. I began to claw and writhe over the entire area to find any way out. My teeth gnashed and I felt no pain, my fingernails broke and I did not cringe. I was furious, I made a tempest of comotion without any real direction. Shortly I found a small opening which I could push through. I didn’t observe many things from my environment at this point, save one very curious thing which I could not, at the time, place.

The walls of this crack which I was wriggling my way through were made of some substance other than rock. They pushed in around me and yet were pliable. My fingers stuck to them, the wall was slimy. The moisture seeped into my pores, saturated me. The dank odour anaihilated my nostrils and burned my lungs. It wanted to keep me down, it must have. The air flowed back and forth over me carrying on it that unearthly stench.

I fought violently, my mind made no thoughts other than escape. The walls pushed me back, they sucked in around me, it released me, and then it sucked back in. The daemoniac pulse of what I no longer knew to be a cave became my own. I was being pulled into the wall, I was being swallowed by this tunnel. Coherence lost meaning to me and I knew sanity would never again find me.

I blacked out from all time and space, memory lost me and I know no more.

V

I had died inside the cave, I was positive of it, but when they found me I was apparently breathing. The scars which now cover my body were fresh but just beginning to clot when my team arrived, most of my clothing was gone or torn into shreds and George was nowhere to be seen.

From what I’ve been told I was unconscious and when they awoke me I babbled something incoherent, something of teeth and “it” breathing. My comrades had assured me everything was OK but I’ve been told I was inconsolable.

At this point I begin to recollect more and I specifically remember my extraordinarily violent and outlandish reaction to the other diver’s request to return into the system and search for George.

I have no knowledge of what the team told the villagers, I was sent back to the states immediately and admitted into the hospital. I was able to collect myself enough to keep from being admitted to the asylum but have since spiraled steadily downward into a slum of degradation that the doldrums of my existence, of my so called life, are as painful as any torture. Tonight, in clear a mindedness which is now rare to me, I have decided to end this terror or living.

My wedding ring is on the table, below my feet.


[edit on 13-11-2009 by Mr Headshot]

[edit on 14-11-2009 by Mr Headshot]

[edit on 14-11-2009 by Mr Headshot]

reply to post by Mr Headshot

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"My wedding ring is on the table, below my feet". That's quite an image.
The route he chose was unexpected. He seemed so courageous in the beginning; a fighter. Sigh.

Anyway, the story needed to be finished, and so it was.

I enjoyed it very much. Thank you for completing it, Mr. Headshot.

I know what you mean. The story is based on a concept a friend and I came up with. In the begning I had intended the man to die in the monster but it didn't seem fitting. I don't want to explain everything but I will offer this explaination for his abbrupt suicide: his mind had expanded on what he had seen and could not hold the weight of the sheer magnitude of what he'd been inside.

Take that where you will

Thanks for your comments lady, I really appreciate them.

Wow! I was at the edge of my seat reading this. Such imagery and suspense. I am quite impressed. Now please go and have this published somewhere!!!!!!