Waking Terror

The lonesome ocean floor is bathed in eternal blackness. It is an unending pressure cooker. A hell where topside life becomes flattened with prejudice. There is no mercy at the bottom abyss. Those who navigate the waves fear the depths for good reason. Those unfortunate to go into the crushing waters without care, becomes part of the whole. An ancient structure takes quiet residence in the deep. One that houses a dormant giant waiting to arise once more.  

Ph'nglui mglw'nafh Cthulhu R'lyeh wgah'nagl fhtagn.

There are some who accept the dreams from the inanimate, Great Old One. One who arrived into his stasis eons ago. A being of ancient ancestry that sits alone. The hushed sleeper who talks through the mental imagery of those sensitive enough to receive his message. Some push pass this madness. Some slowly become insane. Others realize the fortune that they have been charged with. These are the cultists. The chosen.

Ph'nglui mglw'nafh Cthulhu R'lyeh wgah'nagl fhtagn.

The statuesque miscreant resides among the geographically, obscene stone structures at R’lyeh. A solitary place so old it was forgotten before it was thought to exist. A city, a temple, a hallowed land where its sole occupant rests dormant under the accumulated soot of sand and time. The illogically formed structures pushing against the break neck pressures of the cold depths, withstanding the brute force challenging every stony inch. Slimy, green residue spread across the tops and sides of the arcane construction.

Ph'nglui mglw'nafh Cthulhu R'lyeh wgah'nagl fhtagn.

The rare aquatic life that makes its way at this depth senses to keep a healthy distance from the esoteric perimeter. Only the most primitive, simple organisms who act by instinct alone float through its precipices. They move among the ancient buildings, keepers of the secret. A living ecosystem among the sleeping dread in its vicinity. Pittances of a pittance dominant planet. The true terror beyond anything that mortal mind can process. A growing need to awaken begins to take hold in his mind. The end of a rest. The beginning of a devastation.

Ph'nglui mglw'nafh Cthulhu R'lyeh wgah'nagl fhtagn.

The icy cold water bathes reptilian like skin, though he feels none in any meaningful way. Nothing can wake the eternal rest except its own internal call to arise. The living embodiment of world destruction within a lost city within the ambiguity of the water’s stretch. A rumor riding on the mist of a dream. A Great Old One who the solitary writer of old warned humanity about. Howard Phillip Lovecraft, the sole founder of Cthulhu enthusiasts. The one who knew of that which lives in silence below. The man who offered us a chance to know the horror before it awoke. A writer, a prophet or both.

Ph'nglui mglw'nafh Cthulhu R'lyeh wgah'nagl fhtagn.

The offensive block construction defies all logic and reason, as if created without an understanding of how the architecture should work. Tiny bubbles begin to emerge around the slumbering form. The sustained pressure immediately crushes them. The great beast begins to shift as his lengthy inaction draws to an end. He has sent his believers clear indications that their wait will soon end. They are elated that the time of reckoning is drawing close and have sworn to each other to do its bidding.

Ph'nglui mglw'nafh Cthulhu R'lyeh wgah'nagl fhtagn.

Great Cthulhu stirs against the despondent backdrop. A righteous setting for the unstoppable terror that it will unleash across the planet. The nightmare that most think are things of fiction. There is no human made power that will come close to altering the destructive force that will make all people equal in death. No religious or spiritual incantation to match the reality that will walk unimpeded. People will learn fear from the one who has returned. 

Ph'nglui mglw'nafh Cthulhu R'lyeh wgah'nagl fhtagn.

His eyes slowly break their eternal seals and open. He is awake. He will conquer all after escaping the dark abyss. He will touch the sky once more. The sun is all that remembers his face. All buildings will topple. Their hardened concrete frames will be a mere inconvenience. Prideful, mortal interventions will have no effect. He is the one that will make the human misery of the world end. Long gone will soon be the days of warm lattes and vacations. The great museums and libraries, retainers of the greatness of human knowledge, will be of no more. Eventually, all evidence of human occupation will be wiped clean from his home.

Ph'nglui mglw'nafh Cthulhu R'lyeh wgah'nagl fhtagn.

He moves his head, adjusting to the reality of being awake once more. Giant, obscene tentacles sway under his mouth against his chest. There is no confusion, only unresolved anger. A thunderous bellow rings forth. Acoustic sensors in proximity of the underwater sound waves are shattered in place. A submarine passing by suffers catastrophic damage, slipping quickly into a watery grave. The first humans to reap the return of Cthulhu. The acoustic sensors far enough to survive alert those keeping monitor that something is under the water, something that has caused their instruments to go off the charts. Experts frantically scramble for answers. The topside dreamers act upon their knowledge that the Great Awakening is underway.

Ph'nglui mglw'nafh Cthulhu R'lyeh wgah'nagl fhtagn.

He stands erect into destiny. A seething need to surface grows exponentially. Mighty legs, each the statute of a small building, take their rightful place under his behemoth form. His talon laden feet rest upon the silt covered floor of the temple city, stirring the passive sediment. Large, abhorrent wings shift along the contours of his body, reawakened. Water stirs around the towering shape. Time’s accumulation that has settled on his body begins its slow descent onto the ground. His followers wait patiently in robes along the South American shorelines for first sight. Their long awaited moment nears as he takes his initial steps forward.

Ph'nglui mglw'nafh Cthulhu R'lyeh wgah'nagl fhtagn.

An undeniable sense of dread takes place across those who ride upon and within the salty waters. Surface fleets move in all directions. Captains immediately begin making new headings back to the temporary safety of the closest docks. Those who brave on become the victims of mutineers who clamor for safety over ship loyalty. The awoken Cthulhu bends muscular legs and pushes off the bottom of the ocean floor diagonally into the water above. The Kraken of the Deep. The Great Old One. Boats begin to run aground. Crews make illogical efforts to absolve their sea legs onto land. All encompassing dread overtakes their rational minds. Submarines navigating in silence become scuttled as madness infects the inhabitants.

Ph'nglui mglw'nafh Cthulhu R'lyeh wgah'nagl fhtagn.

People aren’t able to explain to one another why they feel the need to begin moving away from the shoreline. No one can vindicate the exodus. No one will discuss that which everyone feels. All but the cultists remain. Each gathered on one beach to watch the inevitable. They are prepared to do his bidding. His head breaks the water surface. No aquatic life is within reach as they, too, sense doom closing in. The air pushes water droplets off the putrid, emerald skin. He crosses the salty water towards the closest land. Chile. His deep yellow eyes see the first signs of ground. Trees and buildings in the foreground. He pushes a deep howl into the cloudy sky. Terror breaks into insanity. People turn on each other as their minds break. The few sane enough to flee inland do so as the insane ravage everything around them.

Ph'nglui mglw'nafh Cthulhu R'lyeh wgah'nagl fhtagn.

The sunlit shallows become beach. He takes his first steps inland. Monstrous feet cause immediate carnage. Anything ahead becomes flattened under his immense power. His mighty wings open, blocking out great swaths of the dawn sky. He throws his thick arms into the air, bellowing once more. A celebratory call to his return. No one can run far enough. No one can remain sane. All will succumb to the ocean terror on land. All will be destroyed. He moves across the ground, leaving giant, hellish imprints behind. He is here. He is now. He is the immaculate equalizer.

Ph'nglui mglw'nafh Cthulhu R'lyeh wgah'nagl fhtagn

In his house at R'lyeh, dead Cthulhu waits dreaming