The Great Old Ones Return
The Old Ones came from the stars and found Earth, inhabiting its' lands and oceans. Their home system was the Sirian binary system, a watery planet encircling the Dog Stars dwarf sun. They created the Shoggoth, protoplasmic amorphous slaves imprinted with their great intellect. They manipulated matter to create the first stirrings of 3Dimensional Life. The Shoggoth's first genetic experiments with transient matter based life (in creating their own slave based race) were a failure, upping the primates gene pool with their own, which created the world of men, but they were a pestilence, a cancer on the world, solipsists of the worst order. Their second attempt was more successful, an aquatic hybrid of the aggressive chimps paired with themselves. Unfortunately they had not judged the ferocity which chimp man would ferret out and destroy any nests of the aqua men. cf innsmouth, the Polynesian isles, the destruction underwater of their original landing sites. By this time the Shoggoth believed themselves to be Gods for theirs had died in the time of the great ice age, they began paving the way for the Great Old Ones return to wakefullness.
Being extremely long-lived, they tended to sleep for great swathes of time, years would merely be an eye blink for them, and centuries might pass as they came to one decision or other, but in 2036 when the stars aligned and they began waking, they finally decided that the upstart chimps, who had made no attempt to live peacefully with their ocean living brothers would be cleansed off the Earth. Cthulhu, awake in his sunken city of R'lyeh, viewing their nuclear threats and wholesale rape of the planet decided to make them a footnote in this planets history ledger. This was done without rancour, acknowledging the chimpmen as an original mistake, an experiment that had failed, simply causing tidal surges to take out their cities around the world. With little or no warning mankind was unprepared for the great deluge, and the aqua men made short work of any surviving pockets of men.
I intend to regress the patient 5 million years…
Y'ha-nthlei & R'lyeh: Ancient underwater alien city's of The Great Old Ones.
They arrived when there was only one land mass (Pangaea). As the lands moved apart they saw the necessity to move upon them and pushed evolution into that direction.
I dreamed of three old ones artefacts, a misshapen fish eyed old hag with green scales and daggers for teeth, a piece of golden weave cloth that had a beautiful mans face embossed on, overlaid with oceanic horrors, all tentacles and eldritch memories, and something which I am poor equipped to describe, kind' a like a shimmering green gateway, that led to God alone knew where; some kind of cityscape beyond all human knowledge, where the architecture was painful to the eye, a desert region with a purple sky and five suns blazing overhead. Through many trials I won the Golden Fleece.
The end days were a mad time when The Great Old Ones walked once more on the Earth. Caleb and his little settlement of survivors, living in the deep caves of Cumbria , subsisting on berries and rats gathered from their infrequent forays into the world of the sun, and the bleached creatures living in the depths of the surface. As they dug deeper into the crust, finding an alien world with its own ecology, they felt constant hunger, constant fear and constant anger, that they were no longer emotive but day to day survival instincts.
You know you've fallen from grace as you're ripping into still bleeding animal carcass, eating a dead relative or friend, drinking brackish water, fucking anything that's warm just to feel – something. It was scary to think that all religion had been a sham, that mankind were just the failed slaves of an infinitely superior race, themselves cursed from time before living memory by yet another race, who, if they were even aware at all, viewed humanity as less than bacteria.
Jeera, a girl of about his age, stopped moving below him, he looked down, all disinterest to mirror her:
He rolled off her, not even bothering to finish his approaching climax, “Shit. How long we been down this black hole? I'm going out of my fucking mind with boredom. I wanna eat something better than goddamn worms and bleached rat.”
She laughed, a nasty short bark, “You want we should go back out there and talk-”
“Fuck, we're an endangered species now-”
“Just fuck off Caleb!”
She stood up, her ribs pointing out of her emaciated body looking with disgust at his now flacid penis; she moved away, standing at the cave mouth, looking into another cavern where their small tribe had set up camp. The little light they possessed came from a central fire - their eyes had adapted well enough in the five years they'd been cowering down here. Her bulging belly was at odds with the rest of her body, but all the females were pregnant, or trying to be; first rule of survival, survival through breeding, even in madness it was the strongest imperative.
She was pissed, Caleb was right – that always pissed her off. Humanity should be exploring the stars now, propagating outwards and laying claim to the universe; instead they'd found out the stars were already owned: Fuck! The planet was owned; even the Shoggoth had been here a billion years in one form or another, hiding in the dark depths of the oceans and stars, calling mindlessly to their dead masters, ‘Teleki Li' until they found the Great Old Ones to worship and serve.
The night was the worst because then the shared dreams would come, tearing soul, body and mind apart, the universe literally came apart at the seams and they could locate you in that vulnerable state. Be found by the frog like son of Cthulhu, Ythogtha, and you would not wake up, but be found by your comrades ripped to shreds, or sometimes never found at all. Humanity was obsolete - they feared the future, for it appeared there was none, no help coming, no Superman.
She cradled the coming babe in her arms, praying to a non existent god that it might stay safe in her belly for ever, whilst at the same time fearing what might come out of her body, she'd assisted in the birth – and dispatching, of newborn monsters from healthy wombs, though Caleb had once postulated that they might be the future of humanity, the only form that might possibly survive the genocide.
We have always feared what is different to us, Jeera thought, and didn't wish to give birth in this dark hell, didn't want to lose whatever was growing in her belly. She grimaced, she felt sure the thing wasn't perfectly human, had been changing, she could feel him in her mind, exploring, intimate sharing. She also felt pretty sure that the boy was Caleb's, though there was no sure way of knowing, but as Caleb, again - damn him! had said, if we're to survive the coming epoch then our way of thinking, of living, of being, must change to reflect the new cosmology.
The monsters didn't hate us. They nothing us. At worst, an irritation, a red sore on the flesh – at best, a bee sting to bother their unknowing lives. It hadn't helped that we'd attacked and killed their slave race whenever found and any human worshippers - after all, their predecessors had allowed us to evolve out of the oceans, had permitted our ancestors to serve them.
Jeera hated Caleb, he kept her in a state of perpetual confusion, he seemed to prefer fucking her over any other girl, yet his mind was touched by the madness; he'd say things like, ‘Madness is the new sanity. If you stay sane then the new world will destroy you, you need to revel in the madness, hug it to your breast like sirens in the distance. We're not even a footnote in history, let's not go into that dark place quietly, sobbing in our caves, afraid to even look outwards at what might be out there in the light. We need to find our new place in the world, for I feel we may have one, we are adaptable, our new children are changing, yet we thoughtlessly destroy them for not having two limbs, ten digits – truly, we are the monsters, for if something doesn't fit into our narrow template of acceptability we refuse to accept it.'
Yet deep within a part of herself, she wanted to be close to this mad thing, and if she ever saw him lying with another woman, another part, buried deep within, burned, however, she could show him no warmth, no intimacy except to open her legs willingly enough for him to enter when he so wished…
It begins by falling into darkness.
Surrounded by stars of impossible colour, music of chthonic variance batters your very soul. Living starships flashed past at light speed, planets teeming; an explosion of life man had never been conscious of spread across the universe. Beings of cool, vast intellects that weren't aware of your existence, a cold non-caring indifference. Humans were inchoate, unfinished, broken...
The universe would invariably tear open at ninety degree angles and time become a stream travelling in both directions, and you could see both the beginning and end of it, stretched across an alien landscape of purple sand dunes, strange skies and incredibly twisted cities, all disproportionately angular; monstrous statues dotted here and there, alive with a vibrance of neurotic power; pyramids of ancient authority.
Then hieroglyphic writings would start etching across the formless lights and the damning familiarity would begin, as if you should understand what they were saying, as universes flashed past at right angles to the perceiver, as you begin moving to the great centre where the formless beast would be eating away at the heart of the multiverse – forever hungry and howling in bestial derangement.
In the periphery of vision would be all the multitudinous realms of creatures, ill formed lights, and slimy, hairy, silicate based creatures of pulsating form and fact. Horrors that would send the tiny brain of man insane with one glance, angels and demons, the unknowable, the actuality of the Verse was that reality was horror where everything ate everything, from the stars to the quarks: Mankind was the oddity in this actuality, a botched experiment by creatures that would call themselves gods.
Through the gaping maws of Azathoth, Caleb fell screaming in wordless agony, his very soul being ripped apart by the tidal forces that shredded light as easily as man shredded cotton. He awoke, in the dream state, to find himself on a grey blue world with five suns burning high in the cobalt sky.
He'd been here in his dreams many times, a path of some great antiquity led up to two misshapen statues burning with energy, he would walk up to them and they would question him in an unknown tongue, and he would be unable to answer so they would bar his progress. Like the writing, the alien tongue sounded familiar, as if he should understand what was being asked, but it always stayed just beyond reach. He instinctively knew, that the further into his primitive brain stem he should travel – to understand the dead, ancient language, the madder he would be when he finally returned to the land of the waking.
Dreams were no longer the insubstantial creations of a catatonic mind, but just as real as your waking life, although they could play out for years over a single night.
He sensed danger and dived for cover as a great old one thundered into view, like the dinosaurs of yore, they were huge, shambling amorphous creatures, one could be as different from another as light is to day. This one moved its bulk along a multitude of cilia and looked somewhat like a giant tree stump with a ring of eyes around its crown. It was being served by a group of Shoggoth and, Caleb noted, some few chimp like men, who shuffled on two legs, using their elongated arms to speed their movement to keep up with the undulating Shoggoth.
The reason Caleb hid was not because the creature (in the dream he became aware it was called Vulthoom, The Sleeper of Ravermos ) might hunt him down to kill him, but simply because he might crush him if he saw him, he might not. The Great Old Ones had reclaimed the Earth, they bore no malice to the remnants of man, much as you would bear no malice to an insect, simply swat them out of existence if you noticed them at all. The Shoggoth if alone, would attack, but never whilst placating their master. The chimp like creatures were a new addition to the dream, perhaps they were men who had accepted the madness and become slaves to the Earths new owners.
Mankind had had a conceit, about good and evil, their own sacrosanct inviolability, the rightness of their place in the universe. They had gained dominion over the Earth and had expected to lay claim to the universe in like respect. But in their own way they had emulated the hierarchical structure of their invaders from the very beginning. Perhaps Cthulhu, dreaming in the deeps of the ocean had infected us, even then.
At least in your dreams you could eat, it would abate your hunger, and even carry you for a few hours into your waking life, as Caleb strolled up to the two statues he helped himself to the fruits and berries he found on bushes and plants. The dirt track became a stone road in the wilderness, leading straight to his gaolers, and though there was nothing to either side of them he knew that to attempt to walk round would mean instant death. This time though, something else had changed, there stood before him a man, deep black, with hooven legs. He was completely bald, and smiling.
“Caleb, I've been waiting for you.”
“Who, what, are you?”
“You wanted a saviour boy, well here I am. My name is Nyarlathotep, though some call me the Crawling Chaos, and I answer only to Azathoth, the eater of souls. I have always been here.”
“You are the deceiver and play men for your own amusement. You called forth the sleeping gods when the stars were right. By what right do you call yourself a saviour?”
Nyarlathotep laughed, a fluty sound in the rarefied planets atmosphere, “You are coming along nicely Caleb, but still you are mired in the prison of the three dimensions. Who is it that has permitted the human remnants to join in the true dream of the Verse? Who has given you the chance to not be a forgotten mistake by the rest of the galactic lords? It is I, your humble servant and friend who attempt to unravel your DNA spiral.”
He gave a slight bow, “Any thought is an image of the Truth and Good and Evil are the constructs of an imperfect Mind. Do you still not recognise this place? Do you still not understand what the guardians are asking of you? Should I kill you now and save you the bother of living? Jeera is waiting for you to become a man.”
“What is the question they ask of me?”
“Oh, I could tell you, but you would still need to answer them to get through, so the telling becomes pointless. You must understand just a little more to pass through the gate.”
“Where does the gate take me? Why is it so important to go through?”
The man shape sighed, his image shimmering somewhat, as though about to change, “Oh my dear Caleb, do you understand nothing? The guardians and the gateway are allegory; it's simply a way of opening your fourth neural circuit, sometimes I don't know why I bother. You creatures seem to like crawling in the dirt and shit, it is a pale imitation of the limitless Verse, I really should just leave you to it.”
“No please, help me understand the question. I shall go mad if I have to endure this for an eternity. I want to… I need to comprehend. How do I understand the language, it is dead and buried and long forgotten.”
“It's all there in the meat muscle you call a brain, encoded in proteins and flickering atoms, a matrix that has existed for as long as you have. But I take pity on your miserable existence. You know where your oldest memories lie; you just have to open the doors Caleb.”
As he faded away, a thousand shapes flitted through the ghost memory, a pharaoh of ancient Egypt , a black, furry, snouted creature, a gelatinous mass, a five-mouthed, morbidly obese woman with numerous tentacles, before fading into a dark fog that dissipated in the dusky silence.
Caleb marched up to the guardians and their swords clanged down, barring him access, their thin reedy voices spoke once more into his brain, “What is your original name?”
And he finally opened the doors into madness…
A billion memories assaulted him, a million entities, a million lives, all part of the whole. The entity that was Caleb was crowded out by all those other lives, their other lives: He was no longer Caleb but a shapeless protoplasmic thing which had just gained sentience, living on a planet long since destroyed in the youth of the cosmos, and it had a name, his name. He spoke it in a sibilant hissing and the guardians' swords lifted, he was free to walk through, if he could walk, for in his vast life he had slithered, crawled and flown as often as he had had appendages. Caleb screaming through all the other versions of himself to retake control of his body, but he could feel himself slipping through the maelstrom. He stepped through the gate…
Hermes Trismegistus in Mesnards Edition, 'Turba Philosopharum'.
Trismegistus – thrice times greatest...
'Who shall call their dreams fallacious
Who has searched or sought
All the unexplored and spacious
Universe of Thought.'
Copyright © 2006 Tony F Paulazzo All Rights Reserved