The Eye of Osiris
Ancient Egypt,
The Catacombs of Nyarlathotep’s Temple,
circa 1242 BCE
(3168 years ago)
This new state of undeath was not only new to Pharaoh Nyarlathotep, but new to his multimind too.
Where physical death would normally trigger its innate ability of metempsychosis, not so now. The accursed Eye of Osiris wouldn’t allow death.
The pain of the dagger through his chest still hurt, but now it was a pain that he could function with. It was no longer debilitating. It was more annoying and irritating than anything else. It was like an extremely strong and powerful itch. He could feel ever so tiny tendrils in his body trying to stitch itself back together again; to heal; but the blade simply was in the way.
He writhed in the obsidian darkness, slowly trying to loosen the wrappings that bound him. He could hear the other undead shuffling and groaning nearby in the darkness. They were of no concern to Pharaoh.
Struggle as he would, he simply was too weak to unbind himself. He needed to feed, and he was in a near perfect situation to do so!
He knew he could leech off the nearby undead, and since they all were in close proximity to the Eye of Osiris, they couldn’t physically die, they were a virtual endless source of power!
Schäfer’s Expedition
Egypt, The Catacombs of Nyarlathotep’s Temple,
1925
(3168 years later)
Jebediah Stanton’s skin was normally a pale grayish tone – clammy and unhealthy coloured. But now his chest and arms turned pink as blood flushed through his straining muscles.
Otto was right, Donita thought to herself, Jebediah was a beast of burden.
Jebediah, Ezra, Otto, and two Arabic men struggled with the final collapsed lintel stone. The four men looked like children beside Jebediah. He was truly a behemoth.
Ezra Stanton shouted something at his brother, but his American accent was so thick and peculiar and strange, Donita couldn’t tell what he said. Jebediah stopped momentarily and looked at his brother. His expression was odd. Donita couldn’t read what was going on behind that ichthyo face. There was an odd quasi-intelligence there – but not much of one.
The giant turned back to his work and put his shoulder into the stone. As it shifted ever so slightly, sand and grit and dust fell from the reinforced ceiling. The ever so faint sound of grinding stone gave the five men hope and inspiration!
The two Arabic labourers began singing as they uncoiled ropes. Otto joined in. Apparently he knew the Arabic song. Donita was impressed. And almost on cue, he turned and flashed her his boyish smile. Even covered in sand and dirt he was handsome she thought. She tilted her head and smiled out of the corner of her mouth.
“We’re not there yet,” Donita shouted in fluent Arabic. “Secure those ropes and pull, by Allah! Pull!”
Jebediah stopped and retrieved his water. His expression something other than blank but still unreadable. Was he deliberately defying her, or just thirsty? He drank what must have been a gallon of water and put on a pair of old leather gloves. The rest of the men waited on him.
The leader of the archeological dig, Dr. Schäfer, squeezed past Donita, lantern in hand, to oversee the opening of the tomb.
Dr. Schäfer’s English was non-existent so he relied on Donita to translate his German.
Ezra picked up a large lever-like crowbar and Jebediah wedged his arm and shoulder between the stone and wall. The other three stood out of their way, ready on the ropes.
Otto leaned back, craned his neck backwards towards Donita. “How ‘bout a little kiss for good luck?” he playfully whispered.
Although she tried to stifle and push down her amusement, she couldn’t stop a tiny smile from slipping through.
Otto seemed satisfied with his flirtation, turned back and shared a comment in Arabic with the two men on the ropes with him. All three tightened their grip and wound the rope around their forearms.
“Eins, zwei...” began counting Dr. Schäfer when Ezra cut him off frantically.
“-Wait! Wait! Wait!” he shouted. “Quiet! Shuddup!” He dropped his crowbar and pressed his ear to the stone. “I heared something!”
All the men gingerly looked at the ceiling.
“Nonsense! Continue!” barked Dr. Schäfer in German.
“No! Ain’t the stone! From the tomb!” Ezra whispered. “You ain’t hearing dat, Jeb?” he asked his brother. Jebediah just grunted.
“Ezra!” Donita’s voice was piercing. “You stop that right now! You’ll frighten the Arabs. You know they’re a superstitious lot!” Donita continued in Arabic to the other men. She then made eye contact with the hulking Jebediah. “Are you ready?”
Jebediah turned to his brother for confirmation.
Ezra looked frustrated. “Ah, shit. You ready Jeb?” The two exchanged a knowing look. Jebediah smiled. If it could be said that Jebediah was an ugly man, he was downright frightening when he smiled. His ear to ear grin was filled with his tiny teeth. He nodded his head ‘yes’, a string of drool escaping his lips.
“Fine,” Donita continued in English, “On three, yes?” All five men nodded their understanding.
“One...”
Otto and the two Arabs dug their heels in.
“Two...”
Ezra leaned into the crowbar, but Jebediah began pushing. The stone began inching forward.
“Shit!” Donita mumbled under her breath. Maybe Jebediah couldn’t count. “Three!” she shouted. “Push! Push! Push!” Then she put her back to the Stanton brothers. While facing the men on the rope she yelled at them, “Pull! Pull! Pull!”
The stone shifted and slid slowly. Jebediah managed to get the leverage he needed and the stone turned on its base, its grinding sound growing louder in the confined corridor of the catacombs.
A long drawn out spectral groaning escaped from the newly opened gap into darkness. Sounds started issuing from the tomb’s entrance.
The two Arabic labourers dropped their rope and ran, yelling in terror. Otto abandoned his rope and charged forward to help Ezra with the crowbar.
Donita was shouting in Arabic after the fleeing men, “It’s just air! It’s just the air rushing in!”
Jebediah managed to gleefully squeeze his bulk through the opening, finding footing against the wall and put his entire strength into his shoulder.
The massive lintel stone, dislodged, tumbled freely into the corridor. The dust thrown up by it greedily sucked into the gaping black entrance into the Pharaoh’s tomb.
Dr. Schäfer entered with his lantern extended forward. Half dragged across the tomb’s threshold and now torn to rag-like pieces by the lintel stone, was the desiccated remains of a skeleton. Clearly it was crushed millennia ago beneath the stone.
Dr. Schäfer entered further into the tomb. Donita, Otto, and Ezra followed closely. Dr. Schäfer’s shoulders slumped. The crypt wasn’t particularly large. Scattered about the tomb were the dried remains of five other skeletons. None were laid out, but seemingly scattered around the crypt haphazardly. They were not ceremonially buried here but just left to die. Clearly, there was no sarcophagi; no Pharaoh; no true tomb, and no Eye of Osiris. This was a dead end. The archaeological dig was a fruitless failure for Dr. Schäfer.
But that wasn’t where Otto and Donita’s interests lay. They scanned the walls, the engraved inscriptions, the hieroglyphics... Otto hadn’t realized he was holding his breath until he tried to speak. He whispered to Donita, “Well... is it...?” He didn’t know if she hadn’t heard him or was ignoring him or was too wrapped up in her own thoughts.
Donita’s blue eyes scanned back and forth, deciphering the hieroglyphics.
“Well?” Otto asked stressfully again.
Donita’s lips parted silently in awe. “It’s here. The Music of the Spheres. We’ve found it!”
Diary of a Madman
IV: Shores of Sanity
June 4th, 1998
It is only during these shortest days of winter that the sun and moon change to elliptical. They seem to coincide with the ocean rising to the beaches.
This is the fourth time I have observed this bizarre event. I do not believe my mind is slipping, nor do I believe these two celestial bodies are actually changing shape. It must be some kind of atmospheric phenomena causing a sort of lensing effect. It could be gravity lensing but what could possibly create such an effect?
~
June 17th, 1998
The ocean rose up to the cliff-face, up to the sandy beaches again, as it was wont to do during the short days of winter. I retreated to the furthest point I could find inland, away from the ocean’s insane edge; the bats’ cave.
But this time I had decided to attempt to build a more permanent shelter. Truth be known, I needed something to distract my imagination from the ocean’s edge.
I was collecting leaves, branches and vines when I inadvertently stripped a stone bare. The revealed stone was carved. Half-buried in the soil and protruding at an odd angle, it appeared as a chiseled block or rectangle. No, it was more queer in its shape then that; more of a parallelogram or a rhombus shape with strange angles, but clearly man-made. It had aged and weathered symbols or hieroglyphs covering it.
During this fourth winter, any distraction was welcomed over the dreaded worry and fear of waiting and imaging what horror may or may not find themselves onto the beaches.
~
June 30, 1998
I have scouted and cleared the perimeter of the cavern’s mouth. What I had believed to be natural rock formations encircling the cave entrance I have now discovered to be some sort of ruins. All the stones surrounding the cave’s mouth are of the same material, the same odd cut angles, and all with faded hieroglyphics.
Only during the noon-hour sun do I venture out into the island in search of more of these hidden stones, but to no avail. They can only be found in the ruins around the pit entrance of the central cave.
I fear my searches and new discovery has severely hindered my attempt at constructing a shelter; it being little more than a large lean-to perched on an upper escarpment within the cave. The thought has occurred to me to build a strong rope of vines and explore further down the cave’s throat and into the abyssal pit.
~
December 5, 1998
During one of my daylight-hours climb down the outer cliffs to gain food from the lower island’s tidal pools, I slipped and fell...
I am confused. I must have fallen nearly a 150 feet... onto stone.
I know I broke my leg. I can see the bone protruding. My shoulder is crushed and my right arm hangs limp. My lower abdomen is bloated and bruised black-purple. I’m sure there’s internal bleeding. But worst of all, I can’t see out of my right eye and my skull is soft and mushy on one side.
I don’t know how I survived. Maybe I haven’t. Maybe this is what death begins like.
~
December 6, 1998
I admit it. As I lay broken on the stones, I was relieved. I welcomed death. It would have been an easy escape from this island. I’ve been marooned here for four years now. I wanted to die.
But the thought of those bloated walking dead things finding my remains sickened me – let alone that thing that fed upon them!
I struggled and endured and climbed back up the cliff to die on the dry shores of sanity on the island above.
I awoke the next morning to find myself alive. I don’t understand.
My right arm and shoulder hurt, but were functional. It is too painful to eat and my belly has turned a purple-brown colour now.
Although the bone in my leg still protrudes, skin had grown over it. Walking is incredibly painful but no longer impossible.
I still cannot see out of one eye.
~
December 9 (?), 1998
I have hovered in and out of consciousness. I don’t know how many days I’ve been unconscious for.
I am famished.
My belly is no longer bruised and my shoulder and arm seems to function perfectly now. There is no pain. However, my leg hasn’t seemed to healed right – I don’t know what else to call it. It would seem to appear that my wounds have indeed healed.
I can walk, but only slowly with a limp. I fear my leg might have healed permanently lame. My vision in my right eye has returned but is always unfocused.
Last night I dreamt of descending down the central cavern again. I have began collecting long strong vines. I think I will begin seeing how long of a rope I can manufacture. Something calls out to me. I can’t tell whether it’s dream or not. I haven’t eaten in days. I fear delusion may be setting in.
~
December 20 (?), 1998
The more vines I remove around the central bats’ cave, the more hieroglyphic stones I am discovering.
Why are they only here in the island’s centre?
I feel much better having eaten. It is only while dreaming that I can hear it calling.