Another Lost World


The cellar was damp and dark, it held many secrets this particular cellar. A mysterious figure passed through the eerie stillness, his hand went up.

The withered hand waved in a figure 8 and a brilliant flash illuminated the room, instant light. The cellar was huge, so huge it seemed to go for miles. Barrels of wine littered the disused cellar. The figure took his hood off.

“For fuck sake!”

He started jumping around cursing and ranting.

********************Chapter Uno***********************

The Stairway to Heaven

It was 1905 in Dover, England. John Pooley was a man of wealthy means, perhaps the reason he was a man of taste. He had recently come back home from an expedition in Tibet. A fantastic time.

Since he came back he had never been the same. It was the tribe he met that sowed the seed, they told him of a world below and a world above. They were passionate and convincing that he decided to investigate, they could only communicate through pictures drawn on the soil. Sometimes it felt like they communicated through other means that John could not explain.

They said certain words like Aghartha and Shambolla. Emphasising on these words so they were remembered.

They handed the explorers a plant and broke off the fruit, eagerly the group ate the strange fruit as they were hungry. They all sat crosslegged in a semi circle as instructed and drifted in mind downwards, almost dreamlike. Johns body sat in his relaxed state as his soul drifted slowly downwards.

As he went down miles and miles he could see interior tunnels travelling and intertwining like snakes. The weaving tunnels had people walking up and down, meeting, chatting and laughing. They looked like a fair and wholesome people with an orange gleam to their bodies.

His soul kept drifting down until he saw a dark blue at the very bottom of the huge cavern. Intrigued, he went through and suddenly a burst of light. What he saw was astounding, a massive white orb in the middle of a huge country. Hard to describe what he was seeing.

His feet planted firmly on the ground, some of the orange tinted people saw him and came running over. They looked confused and the chitter chatter of an unknown language began. John was worried but he could see he was in no danger.

He could see mountains and lakes all the way for miles, the inner sun was pure warmth. He could almost feel God. The people touched his clothes and hugged him close, had he died?

He didn’t know what was happening. Suddenly a wooly mammoth came charging over and skidded to a stop right at John who had fell at the shock. John got up and looked slowly up at the mammoth. A rider peeked his head over with a grin. The rider jumped down.

“Do’urthgar” the rider proclaimed proudly thumping his chest. He then pointed to John and nodded eagerly.

John stepped forward and thumped his chest to mimic “John!”

Do’urthgar laughed heartily.

“What did I say? Why the mirth?” He Asked

The people stopped the chatter. John looked about in amazement then looked at Do’urthgar who was staring hard.

The proud man shook his head as if searching for the right word. His eyes brightened as he uttered a word.

“Engleeshwan?”

Do’urthgar looked pained saying the single word. He looked harder at John waiting for a reply.

“Yes” John replied “Englishman”.

Do ‘urthgar nodded happily then took out a horn. He blew it three times and suddenly John heard thunder, the ground was shaking. A figure came bounding from the distance and got bigger and bigger as it approached. John was scared but Do’urthgar held him fast, the figure was a giant. It was huge, so tall the mammoth looked like a puppy dog. A giant hand came down to grab John. Scared, John winced thinking he was going to die.

But the giant hand was surprisingly gentle, slowly the hand came up and he could see the giant face. It was bearded but cleanly cut and platted. The brown beard glistened against the light, the kindly face smiled as it plopped John on its shoulder.

The Tourettes


The crypt was cold and dark which left a very intense atmosphere in the air. Suddenly a silhouette of a man stumbled and fumbled in the cold cave, he was trying to find his way through. He had come here through rumours of hidden treasure buried in the depths of the cave.

He was quiet but he heard a noise to the left, a scuttling noise which he assumed was a rat. He chuckled to himself for being a coward but he sensed danger again after a few moments.  He felt hot air against his face and could have sworn a person was in front of him for a brief moment.  Nervously, he backed away then his arm twitched and quick as a flash flicked out hitting the wall.

“Damn it, cotton buds! Turtle soup!” He shouted and then hushed himself by putting his hand to his mouth. Something wasn’t right, an aura of evil was here.

He fell to the floor feeling hopeless. Moonlight streamed into the crypt through a small crack in the entrance. A thin claw was illuminated as it came toward the man.

Gasping the man went into full tourette mode.

“Gang tickling bum sniffle cardio!” His arms flailed as the hand moved ever closer to his shoulder. He swiped at the hand to move it away.

The hand retreated.

He felt the crypt was empty now. That the vile creature had disappeared. Did he imagine it? His heart was racing, his lungs felt frozen.

Laughter.

The creature was laughing.

The man’s arms kept twitching of their own accord. He had full blown tourettes and he was near hysteria in this panic.

The creature approached once more.

“Who dare disturb my home?”

The man flinched, the words came from every direction.

“WHO DARE DISRURB MY HOME?” the creature screeched.

“Floundering Mouse shit!” Replied the man. Scared, he kept quiet. The monster seemed taken aback.

“Hmm floundering Mouse shit eh? Floundering yes, yes, yes perfect name for a mortal…would you like me to light the room?”

“Shit crackers…yes…banana boat!” He replied.

“You’re a bit weird arnt you boy?” The creature flicked his fingers and the room lit up. What the man saw nothing, then he looked sharply to his left and there was the creature.

He stood like a statue, a statue with elongated fingers and legs. But his top body was small and tubby, his head merged into his very tubby shoulder line. His eyes beamed red and his razor sharp teeth were smiling.

The man fainted.

———

He awoke to singing, a beautiful songstress singing a melody made from the very fabric of heaven.

“Be still child,
All is well in dream,
It won’t seem to be long,
Just a moment with me”

The voice repeatedly sung this. He looked around, the room was still lit. He was confused, what’s happening he thought.

“Cock womb ling fudge packing fungus!”

The man kept looking around, trying to figure out where the singing came from. He stood up and walked around the cave. There were etchings on walls, lots of counting strikes.

His arms struck out and he hit his head.

A name was wrote next to a locked door, it said ” plekio pille”. Strange he thought.

“Plekio pille…what the hell is this…”

Suddenly a great realisation hit him, he turned to the entrance! It was covered over, sealed shut. No light came through.

He cried in frustration.

“Drunken fishing, toadstools”

The singing drove him mad. It was making him insane.

He fell back and closed his eyes. His eyes opened. He was looking up at the ceiling…the creature was hanging from the ceiling staring into his soul whilst singing this melody.

The creature stopped singing.

“You want to know what plekio pille means?” He asked.

The man petrified, nodded his head. The creature grinned.

“It means “I kill people”!”

With a swift drop the creature dropped to the man.

“Any last words mortal?”

“Yes” said the man.

“Well, go on!” Impatiently the monster growled, his razor sharp teeth dripping in poison.

“What are you? Bum droplets and candy canes, biscuits”

“I am…I am a ….oh fuck it!”

With that the creature tore into the man’s chest, straight to his heart and devoured it whole. The creature contorted awkwardly and at strange angles.

His work was done, he ate the heart and devoured the man’s soul. He stood up and went to the marks on the wall and with a long finger scraped a line next to the others.

It was time to celebrate. This was the 250th line on the count.

Time to get ready for the outside.