First attempt at Lovecraft story   Leave a comment

The bones of the stage is a fixed set, currently set up to resemble an old house of the 1690s. The inhabitants, however, are dressed in distinctly 1920s clothing. There are two levels of this old house. On the bottom floor is the room of JUDY MAZUREWICZ. The door is open, and she is praying audibly. MRS. DOMBROSKI, the landlady, is in the common area, running a spinner. The prayer and the spinning are in time with each other. Up a half-flight of stairs is the room of WALTER GILMAN, a student lodger. The door is currently shut, and purple light is beaming out from the old wooden door.

There is a knock on the front door, pert and energetic. Ms. Mazurewicz and Mrs. Dombroski continue their work unabated. Another knock, louder and faster than before. Ms. Mazurewicz pauses. She steps out of her room and looks upstairs at Walter Gilman’s room. The knocks occur again, louder and harder. They are coming from the front door.

Ms. Mazurewicz: Mrs. Dombroski. Mrs. Dombroski! The door!

She eventually shakes Mrs. Dombroski from her spinning reverie. Mrs. Dombroski goes to answer the door while Ms. Mazurewicz picks up a frying pan as a weapon.

Mrs. Dombroski opens the door to reveal WINNIE GILMAN, a pretty, energetic, very modern girl, clutching a few papers.

Winnie: Is this the witch house?

Mrs. Dombroski shuts the door.

Winnie bangs on the door again.

Winnie: Mrs. Dombroski! Mrs. Dombroski! Let me in! My brother is in there!

Mrs. Dombroski opens the door. Winnie walks right in.

Winnie: Good god this house is old. I can’t imagine why Walter would want to live here. Mrs. Dombroski, my brother is very ill.
Mrs. Dombroski: Drunk I should say.
Winnie: Not Walter.
Ms. Mazurewicz: There have been ill omens of late.
Winnie: Yes, I know. Are you another tenant? I’m Winifred Gilman, I’m Walter’s sister. My friends call me Winnie.
Ms. Mazurewicz: Miss Gilman. Your brother is not well.
Winnie: Where is he? I must see him. Oh I came all this way, I do hope he’ll be alright.
Ms. Mazurewicz: It is almost time for Walpurgis-Night.
Winnie: What?
Ms. Mazurewicz: When hell’s blackest evil roams the earth and all the slaves of Satan gather for nameless rites and deeds. It is always a very bad time in Arkham, even though the fine folks up in Miskatonic Avenue and High and Saltonstall Streets pretend to know nothing about it. I know such things, for my grandmother in the old country had her tales from her grandmother. This time of year it is wise to pray and count one’s beads.
Winnie: Well that can’t be true. Nothing can be nameless. Everything has a name. How could anyone plan anything if they didn’t name it? “Oh you know that rite we do every year, let’s never name it ever” how silly. Oh Mrs. Dombroski please let me see my brother, do you know where he is?
Mrs. Dombroski: Last night I saw him go upstairs to his room, and I have not seen him come back down.
Winnie: Then I’ll go check his room. (she begins heading upstairs)
Ms. Mazurewicz: He may not be there. It is nearly Walpurgis-Night. There will be bad things. A child or two will go missing, and the authorities will do naught. For three months Keziah Mason and Brown Jenkin have not been near this house, nor anywhere else.
Winnie: Well that’s good.
Ms. Mazurewicz: They must be up to something.
Winnie: For Pete’s sake.

Winnie opens the door. A stinger. Winnie shrieks. Then laughs and enters the room.

Winnie: Oh, oh good he is still here. Walter? Walter? Walter, oh, you’re burning up. What strange light! Walter?

She leaves the room.

Winnie: He is very ill. I must fetch a doctor right away. Is there any water, Mrs. Dombroski?

Walter sits up and screams. He is fully-dressed, including shoes, despite having been in a deep sleep.

Ms. Mazurewicz: W imie Ojca I Syna I Ducha Swietego. (In the name of the father, the son, and the holy spirit)
Winnie: Walter?
Walter: What? Where am I? Where am I? Oh – I’m – here.
Winnie: Walter?
Walter: Winnie! What the blazes are you – I don’t feel well – my head –
Winnie: Walter, it’s alright. I’m here. You’re always taking care of me, now I get to take care of you.
Walter: But how did I get here? I was…the sun was very hot…there was an iridescent kaldeiscope little polyhedron…a shift and vast as converging plans of slippery looking…yellow, carmine, indigo were madly and inextricably blended…a fantastic balustraded terrace above a boundless jungle of outlandish, incredible peaks, balances planes, domes, minarets, horizontal discs poised on pinnacles, and numberless forms of still greater wilderness—some of stone and some of metal—glittering gloriously in the mixed, almost blistering glare from a polychromatic sky. The city below stretched away to the limits of vision, and–

He picks up an item off of his bed and screams. The item is a metal knob, somewhat resembling a starfish, somewhat resembling a barrel.

Walter: I must go with them, I must meet the Black Man, and go with them all to the throne of Azathoth at the center of Ultimate Chaos. I must sign in my own blood the book of Azathoth and take a new secret name.
Winnie: I am making an executive decision and taking you home.
Walter: But Winnie. I know. I know why I cannot go.
Winnie: You have to come with me. Please, Walter.
Walter: I cannot go to where the thin flute pipe mindlessly.
Winnie: Good. Come home with me.
Walter: I have seen the name Azathoth in the Necronomicon. It stands for a primal evil too horrible for humans to comprehend.
Winnie: Just come home, Walter.

Posted August 29, 2017 by agentksilver in writing

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