THE WHATE HOUSE in Innsmouth c1 - C5

The house was where a murder had occured. I am an investigator of the police in Innsmouth.

Whate House in Innsmouth
C1


In 1909, I was a police officer in Innsmouth, and my partner was Eric Vandal. I go by the name of Jake Johnson. I answered the phone in the police station. The voice on the other end said,"There's a body..." The thunder interrupted his speech. I could hear it clearly, I could imagine the wind blowing through the streets. I expected not to hear him afterwards, as I thought the storm would carry the little box away where he was standing. But he was still there.

Thunder most violently crashed and exploded, the window in the police station lit up with its brilliance. The wind threatened to tear loose the shingles on the houses, it hurled papers that were caught in its grasp. Stones flew like daggers to strike windows and people on the streets.The station had several constables and detectives in it. The people there were glum, a few officers walked inside the house, water sped off their gramants to shower the floor with its mildew. One constable sneezed tears ran from his eyes..

"What did you say?" I asked as I listened to his voice saying this to me. I heard the thunder as it roared and the water hammered the place where he was standing. It sounded like a typewriter hammering the page with its keys. I heard the wind scream across the box. I think I imagined the box lift and shake like a hulu dancers' hips..

"A body on a fence...". the voice said along with a throaty cough. blew his nose. that I heard him do this.

"I see a body, Where?" I asked as I struggled to hear his voice more clearly. I thought I could have someone else take this case, but knew no one else would want to do this. I winced as I saw the wind hurl a newspaper across the street and debris into the street; it threatened to pull people from the sidewalk and toss them about in the area with great force. I bit my lip, as I tried to hear his voice more clearly.

"A fence."

"On a fence, Where?" I asked, I looked across the room to see my partner who was laughing as if there was nothing to worry about. He walked toward me, his shirt was perfect and his jacket lay across the back of the chair where he had been sitting until he walked toward me. His right hand crashed against my shoulder, nearly driving me to my knees. His mustache was large and thick, he was in a good mood. It figured that he was happy. I thought he was crazy loving storms that exploded and burst across the city streets. Water was something he loved as much as he loved lightning and thunder that deafened everyone with deafness.

"The barbs at Dun..."

"Dun and what?" I prayed I couldn't hear the next word from him. I looked at my partner, standing there lifting a cup to his mouth to wash whatever he was eating down his throat, he burped. He lowered his cup to the table beside where I sat.

"And Burrows," the voice said.

"Are you standing in a police call box?" I asked as I tried to grab my pistol and trench coat. Motioned for Eric to grab his jacket from where it had been sitting before I answered the phone.

"Yes!"

"Stay there?" I needed to see this witness, have him show me the body. Because I doubted I could see anything there, the rain would muck up my glasses lense. I headed toward the door.

The door shuddered and shook. Rain ran off the handle to fall on the floor.

I touched the door knob and drew my hand from the knob. A chill got to my hand from the door knob. I winced as I reached inside my jacket to grab my fur lined gloves to protect them from the cold in the air. Eric handed me my hat, at least its brim would keep the rain off my specs.

My hand felt frozen, I struggled to force the door open. When the door moved past its mooring, the door ripped open as if it was a hot knife going through a celery stick. It nearly hurled me from the floor I stood on. I dangled from the knob, my partner grabbed me by my other arm to drag me back to the stairway. My feet were nowhere near the stairs that were there; I hung three feet below it.
Thunder roared and lightning flashed, illuminating the street.

I cursed as I saw the rain fall like a shotgun being fired. It pelted every inch of the sidewalk and us. I blew on my hands to have them warm up, the moisture tore through my gloves, that were fur lined. The chill was very deep and strong. It sank like a stone as it arrived in water into my flesh.

I said,"Christ. That wind is going to kill someone some day."

Eric said,"What are you complaining about? There is a chill in the air, lad." He laughed as he stood there trying to have me get on the stairs to move down them. The wind closed its arms about us smothering in its chill and deathly hold. We were engulfed in its cold. Steam rose from his mouth as he stepped beside me. There was a grin on his mug that made my blood boil. He liked the cold. It ran down his cheeks to soak into his coat's neck.

















C2

A man stood in the police box.at the moment was looking toward my partner and me as we approached him. A flash of lightning showed him in its brilliance. He blew on his hands. His hair was concealed in a bowler cap. A cigarette dangled from his lips. His eyebrows were bushy. He was a bull of a man. There was fog from his breath from the chill in the air. He was looking at where we had come from, in the general direction of the police station. He looked up into my face; his chin had the beginnings of a beard, no mustache. The cuffs of his shirt were visible, thanks to his overcoat, which did not cover them or his jacket’s cuffs. I saw a chain run to his pocket.

He said,” Look at it. The body right there!” he pointed at it. His skin was pale, and there were freckles on his face. He was shivering. He smelled of puke, his dress shirt was stained with it, and alcohol. He was now looking at the ground.

I saw the witness staining there, grinding the toe of his shoe into the stonework on the sidewalk. I approached him. It was apparent he had found the body impaled on the fence of the house. His eyes were bloodshot. Shuddering as he saw me approach him. Rubbing his hands together and blowing on them. The rain came down most heavily. There was a dark shadow in the shape of a body hanging off the fence rail, which looked to be the size of a body.

He grabbed my forearm, forced me to look at the body hanging from the fence to truly look at him, and said,” Look? At him! Don’t you see his body! Jesus, what happened?” Pointing at the body hanging from the fence. He brought his hand up to steer toward me toward the body dangling from the top of the fence. It looked as if he had been carrying something in his hands.

I wrote down the information that I gained from him. I looked at him, my pencil dangled from my hand. I wanted to have him calm down. Did he hear any sound? Probably not over the thunder that was roaring here. The body was almost invisible, thanks to the tree’s shadow falling over the body. A flash of lightning allowed me to see the body laying across the fence’s top.

Looking over at the body, I put my hand under his chin to look into his face. He has van Dyke facial hair. I looked at his face, seeing that blood had vacated his skin. I recognized the face, but could not place it anywhere I had seen it. However, when I lifted one of his eyelids. I saw the blue eye, which was how I knew him.

It was that of a reporter who had come here to investigate the Whately family, having come from Arkham. He had been hounding us, trying to find answers to his questions. He was like a dog chasing a cat. He would not let up in his pursuit of knowledge of the Whate family. He was a reporter for the Innsmouth Journal.

His eyes were bloodshot. The body looked as if it had been frightened. If I were to judge how the body looked. I saw the body there. It hung from the barbs that made up the top of the fence. The body smelled of decaying fish and seaweed. His shoulder had some seaweed on it. His body was in an overcoat hanging over the fence with his arms hanging down toward the ground.

I saw beneath the right-hand lay an enormous statue of a being lying on its back, the blades of grass rose up about the object that fell there. When I lifted the object from the stalks of grass. When I looked at the figure sitting on a chair, there were two taloned feet and hands with three fingers per hand and foot. The statue’s left taloned hand held a heart. Its fingers numbered three in each hand. On its back were wings like a bat that rose from its back, which were three feet across. They were spread. Its head looked like a squid’s body, its tenacled face had parted where its maw was to show its mouth to the viewer, and its back and chest cavity looked humanoid. Beneath it was a stone base with strange markings on it.

I pondered what this person had seen. He looked mortified. The body looked as if he had tried to jump over the barbed fence's top. The wall of the fence was masonry work. The barbs cut into his chest and groin. The barbs were covered in blood that dried there from his body, having flowed down to the masonry work there. He appeared to have looked over his shoulder to see what was behind him. His eyes were large, and his skin was Whate. His mouth was agape; it seemed as though he was trying to say something, but what I did not know. Nor could I guess at what he won’t have said. I looked over his shoulder as he hung there to see the house of the Whate. In all its beauty, I felt fear slip and claw its way up my back tearing deep rents in my skin to allow it to be there as I spied the house. My hair stood on end. I shivered.

He was wearing a leather jacket. He looked as if he had tried to jump the fence that was there. The paper in his pocket had been written in lead that I didn’t try to read now. The lightning was bright but It vanished as soon as it came into being. I withdrew his notes from his inside pocket of the overcoat to put it into my inside pocket.

I knew that no one lived here any longer. The people steered clear of the house. Thanks to the stories we had heard about the house. The stories made us believe that there were ghosts in the house. The house looked as though something or someone was there presently. I did not believe what I was seeing. I advanced toward the abandoned house.

A chill crawled across my spine, and I shivered, but not from the cold but from what my mind was suggesting to me. My breath caught in my throat. What happened here? My nerves were on edge, its chill froze my blood in its veins.

The door was open wide, but was hidden beneath the garbled roof of the porch. Was there someone there? I stepped on the stairs, which creaked. I nearly jumped out of my skin. I knew that these doors were usually closed. Since no one had been inside the house for years on end. I slipped in silence to the house, the vernanda was a few feet from the ground, so I had to use the stairs to get inside the house. Gingerly I stepped on the stairs, one creaked. I shook as this sound met my ears. I looked at the doorway that hung ajar. I mustered up my resolve to open the door, but I was seriously afraid of what I would find there.

I carefully reached out to nudge the door open further, in the foyer was a door, and a rod to hang one's clothing, and put one's shoes. I heard a sound or so I thought. I heard a sound. I smelled smoke as I entered the house. I could not see anything amiss. I turned around and ran back to my partner. My hand trembled as I returned to my partner. I reached out to touch him, and he nearly jumped up to the moon. He dropped the gas lantern on the ground; its light vanished.


“Jesus! You scared me. What did you see?” He asked as he brushed a lock of hair from his eyes. A flash of lightning showed that he was pale as bleached flour. His eyes were wide open. His eyes darted away from the body and me.

“Sorry about that. I think you should join me in going into the house.”, I said as soon as I recovered my breath enough to speak. It sounded like I had croaked these very words. My hand trembled.

I was trembling. I walked with him into the house. I was afraid of what I saw there. There was a scent of blood in the air. Eric felt assured that the people who were there may need some help that we could bring to them. We were going into the house, My eyes saw something flickering through the curtained windows. i heard faint sounds of a fire building up as it touched the house's walls and structure. I slowed my advancement into the mansion.

The door to the living room was open to a degree that I could see inside the family room, where two women lay on the two sofa's with their dresses up to their waists. A body lay just beyond the them there was knife in his lap.

I supposed I imagined I heard voices chanting I know I heard them, I tell you I definitely heard these voices doing this. I asked "Di you hear the voices. That are there in the house. As we approached the house. I walked through the open doorway. The walls were covered in strange script that we were unable to read, with pictures on some of the walls that looked like pictures that the north america indians would draw on them. The drawings made my bladder go.

Lightning lit the sky. Thunder roared. The house was as still as a grave. The house had a large hallway. In the middle of the hallway was a stairway that had a huge balcony with a terrace at the top of the balcony. The interior was shrouded in darkness. Or so we believed. The reason I say this is due to what we found there.

We walked into the living room, in the middle sat three large sofas with a table in the middle with a woman’s body wearing a corset with lace cups for her breasts to be held in. The stays were satin with black closures, the stockings were black with reinforced heels and toes. She lay on her back, her lower legs hung off the table, and her upper arm also hung off of it. Her hair hung down to the floor from the table, her head was laying to my right side. One of the floral cups was torn on the left side. Blood spilled from there to wash across her breast and valley between her breasts. Her eyes were wide enough to roll out of her head. I expected to see her eyes roll out of the skull. Her mouth was agape. It looked as though she was being sacrificed; there was a bowl in the middle of the coffee table.

Smoke rose from before the coffee table to claw skyward like a cockroach. The smoked spiralled as it rose, golden tongue of flame lapped at the table and the other things in the family room. There should have been someone or someones chanting here, but I saw no one being able to do this. I looked about to see the bodies in the living room laying on the floor or on the couch, or the coffee table. They looked dead to me.

There lay two women dressed in long elegant evening gowns, with cocktail gloves on their hands. The gowns were pulled up over their hips. They had makeup on their faces. They lay on the sofas with the one that was in the middle was vacant of life aside from the man in the grey smoking jacket and at his feet was a dagger.

Candlebras were on the end tables at the end of the sofas; the candles had been extinguished. Cigars and cigarettes were lying in ashtrays.. There lay a white powder on a sheet of glass, in a line. I suspect it is Coca.

My right hand slipped inside my pocket to touch the handle of my pistol. My hand slipped and slid off my pistol, I tried to reach the guard of the pistol, and nervously, I began to feel that I was in danger.

The air smelled of shit and urine; there were puddles of shit beneath the woman’s rear and urine filled the air. The men had puddles beneath them. The air stank. Eric put his hand over his mouth and nose; he was gagging from the scent. Blood was pooling from the woman’s chest where her heart had been removed from her chest.

I stood there looking at the bodies of these people. They appeared to be dead bodies. The wind tore through the house. The wind touched down on the bodies, it was as if they were scoured from the room. It was as someone poured water over a sandsoap carving. The only thing that was there was the couch, the table and rug. The smoke hid what remained there, I know i had seen these bodies there.

“What the devil is happening here in this room?” Eric asked as he looked at the couches , tablle the unmoving bodies and the rest of the living room contents.

“I don’t know…” I said as I looked at Eric.

Eric looked at the bodies as they began to dissolve into nothingness. He stepped away from the sofas. Tears ran from his eyes from the dust that was blown into them,

The one I recognised was James Marsh wearing a smoking jacket. A dagger fell from the man dressed in a lounge coat. His hand was blood-stained, and his waist was also blood-stained. He fell beside the coffee table. His body lay on his back with the dagger beneath his legs. Its blade was red with blood. His hands were blood stained.

Two of the women were dressed in evening gowns. Their lips were red, and talc covered their cheeks. Their garments looked to have been torn, but by someone or something. The reason I said things was because of what I saw there. The bodies lay on the sofas.

Four legs of a reptilian build. The table should not have supported the body and this map on her waist; it was not of this region of land, but the shoreline of the estate.

The dagger that was used to remove her heart. Having a crossbar with tentacles forming its guard, with the guard being open.

The floor had seaweed upon it, and there was a scent of rot and decay. When I looked at the floor, I saw circles on it, about 3 inches in width. Some looked as if they were pulled across the floor. The woman’s body, without a heart, had seaweed on it; the heart has a gash in it in a quarter of a circle in shape.

The scent made my stomach heave, and vomit spilled out to fall upon the floor. I stood there looking at the body with my lantern to see with. When I lowered the lantern, he bolted for the door through which we moved.

My partner looked appalled at the bodies in the house, we walked toward the rooms to the right and left of the living room. We heard a wind howl from the room on the right. This is where the circles originated from. So we believed. It looked to have been with three talons per foot.

He had seemed most interested in the body on the fence to the house. He looked at the house, its upper floor had a terrace, and one of the rooms there had its door to the terrace open. We could see a curtain move through the chamber. The wind was blowing through the left door. I peered inside the open doorway.

The house should have been vacant, yet there were these bodies on the ground floor, and seaweed also fell across the floor to the coffee table. Where the map was stained with blood, where the body lay, its heart removed.

Some seaweed lay across the end table to its right. The circles were two feet from each other. The strides looked to have been six inches away. The circles seemed to have been lifted away on their right and left of each other. There were three taloned feet per foot. Tears and blood were staining the rug that was there. It came from the left doorway.

“What the hell happened here? Why are there people here?” Vandal asked as he stepped inside the living room. He walked toward the door on the right side. The room had a pendulum clock there by the door. There were plates on the walls, there were statues of knights on each wall, beside the banistered staircases.

“I don’t know what the reason was for them to have been here,” I said as I stepped back inside the house.

Vandal opened the door to find a study with books adorning each wall, and scrolls lay on the shelves in the walls. There was a pouch of tobacco as well. There was a bottle of rum half full sitting on a writing table, having an ink pot there, with its quill lay on its side on the table. Beside a chair, there was a door open, with seaweed in the entrance way from outside. The handle of the veranda was visible, with kelp lying on the handle; the rocks outside had some kelp on them. The rocks were barren of debris, but they had them.

He walked out to see the outside from there. It was on the side of a cliff, and there was a wharf there. A vessel would have been docked there. But there was no vessel there now.

A diary lay open on an end table with a gas lantern there, not turned on. There was coca in a pouch in the cushion on its left side. Volumes lined the walls of this room, as did scrolls on the other walls. He looked at it, lifted the diary from where it rested there.

He looked at the diary and saw the words… I know he will call. It is time for him to arrive. I have arranged for him to have his gift. It will be found in the living room. October thirty-first was the date.

“How did he know it would be here, and what was it?” Vandal asked as he walked into the living room where I stood. I had gone to the police box to call for an autopsy to be done. Here.

Eric lifted the diary up and carried it with him into the room where I still stood looking at the now empty sofas, and the coffee table had on it a map. I scooped it up and carried it further away from the bodies that were no more. Nothing remained there to suggest that they were there. Fear stole upon my heart and mind.

The wind made my body cold, and the lightning caused me to jump with each bolt that lit the sky. The thunder made it impossible to speak through the police box. The wind tore away at my clothes.

I looked out the door to see the coroner walk toward the body dangling from the fence’s bars. His horse and carriage arrived there, and his driver sat on the bench watching the house. The coroner walked toward the body hanging there. The statue lay on the ground before his outstretched hand and arm.

I stepped out onto the veranda to look at him. He turned on his camera to shoot the body hanging there. The flash showed the body in its Whate light. His waistcoat was visible in its brilliance, and his shirt's collar was starched. His front had fallen onto the fence top, and some of these spikes protruded through his back and lower abdomen. He still unnerved me.

The coroner looked at me as I stood there, blowing on my chilled fingers. He said,” Is that all there is to look at? Jake..”

“There are seven bodies there in the main room! One was killed by a knife, the others looked as if frightened by something that killed them,” I said as I looked at him. He lifted the camera and carried it with him. His top hat was holding away the rain that pounded him as he stood there,

“Six bodies, you say?” Fredrick said as he walked toward me. “Where are they?”

“They were inside the house,” I said. I waited a few more minutes to talk to him, I did not know what to expect from him, but I know I have to tell him what I have seen happen here. None of it made sense to me, I doubt it would to him.

“Why did you say were?” Did they go somewhere?” he looked into my face, his burrow covered in furrows as he waited for me to continue. His hand was currently holding the figure's right hand, he released the arm to fall toward the ground. He lifted the box containing the camera,put it down so it could be used here. He walked out with the flash to be fired to create enough light to be able to see the body hanging off the fence to become a picture in the camera.

“Yes! They went somewhere?” I said as I peered into his face. My stomach sank.

“Anything odd about these bodies?” he asked as he walked to the door where I stood blocking the entry. I stepped aside to allow him to enter the house, I was hearing the sound of fire as it spread like a virus through a body. The flames began to move against the remnants of a building that had not yet caught fire. The flames began to crawl and climb across the beams of the mansion. Smoke slithered and crept across the building's walls.

“Yes, one was sacrificed. It looked as though the victim was dressed in her corset.”

“Is that all? You can tell me!” Frederick said as he lifted his hat to see my face beneath its brim.

“The other bodies look as if they were frightened by something?”

“Frightened, you say, is there any odor?”

“The air is filled with the aroma of shit and ammonia. It was around the six bodies there, also rotting kelp,” I said.

The coroner looked at the flame ravaged house.


























WHATE HOUSE IN INNSMOUTH
C3

Vandal was acting as if he was frightened upon arriving at the grounds of the estate, he really believed and was knowledgeable of the occult. He looked as if he was frightened upon arriving at the scene. He was ill at ease that he was being asked to come here. Why he was so concerned I did not know the answer to this question that gnawed away at my nerves.
We carried in the evidence to look at that I gained from the reporter. The notepad’s cover was damp from the rain that fell..

“Why had the journalist leaped onto the fence? It looks as though he was scared.” a fellow detective asked as he looked at the photo of the body of the journalist on the fence. He looked at the statue. He shivered, his skin blanched. He drew away from the photo and the file folder he carried over to us. He refused to walk anywhere near us. He winced, and shook his head.

I wanted to know why he was acting like this. So I said, ”What’s wrong Phillip? Why are you trying to put distance between us? Have we done anything wrong?”

“Its just that house, do you know anything about the house that you are investigating?” he said as he looked away from my face as he said,”Do you know anything about the house?”

“Should I?” I asked as I turned to face him, my hand hung above the typewriter’s keyboard, I waited for him to say something to me.

A woman approached me as I sat there in front of my typewriter. She stopped as soon as she arrived before me on my right side. She was wearing Whate gown, her eyes resting on my shoulder. I turned to face her, there was a scowl on her face, barely concealed by the veil she was wearing. I recognised her face, it was very similar to the face of the woman who was sacrificed in the house. There were tears streaming down her cheeks. She said, “You found…”

“Please, take a seat. Tell me what you wish for me to hear.” I said.

“No!” She screamed as I lifted my burt from the chair I was seated in. She bolted away from me like a buck expecting to be shot. Turning on her heel. She tore out of my way. I stood there holding my pencil in my hand. I did not know her. She was wearing a veil over her face. She stepped into a carriage as it rode away. I shrugged my shoulders, I knew I couldn’t catch up with her, whoever she was.

Vandal looked at me; he seemed confused, as did I. Vandal lifted the press card of the writer we found on his body. He proceeded to his feet to join me in my walk to the street. This was supposed to happen at 3 fourteen in the morning.

That time was significant because this was when hauntings usually occurred at this time. If I believed in such hogwash. It was allegedly when it would happen. The house where the woman told me to be was a house that was haunted, especially on May 31 or Halloween. At the hour of three and the minute hand was on the fourteen. I did not know what was to happen in the estate. I suspected my fellow partners wished to prank me or so I believed.

“We did not know the answer to this question. But we have his notes!” I said as I opened the pad to read the notes.

His notes read,
“I entered the Whate House this evening. I was told that there would be something odd happening there on this night. The person who supplied me with these words seemed scared to say anything else to me. The voices sounded as though they were chanting something or singing a hymn. This was until I stepped further into the house. When I entered the study to watch what was happening there. I had seen a figure walk toward the house from the rear. This figure was about eight feet tall if one was to judge what appeared to be its hat on its head. It moved in a crouched manner toward the house, I saw something ride from its back like wings perhaps.

The thunder hid its footsteps arriving before the house. I couldn’t see it clearly, but was able to visualize what I told you it looked like. Colors I could not see with the light from the lightning.

The living room was lit by candle light, the air smelled of sulfur and ammonia. In its flickering light I could see the bodies.

Finding seven people in the room. Five of whom were talking animatedly to each other. There was one who did not speak, it walked into the living room.I Advanced towards the five people.

One of the people not speaking lay on her back on a coffee table as if she was asleep. It looked like a satanic ritual. I think I had seen a being with a pointed hat on its head, It walked if you could call it that. More like shuffled into the house. It came in through the rear of the house.

I stole it the same way it had come into the house. It looked as if no one could walk up from the rear of the house as it was a cliff there a hundred feet from the ground. I crept up on the interior of the house,

I saw five people talking amongst themselves. They seemed animated in speech; there was a noble wearing a monocle, with a lounge coat on his frame within this group of people. He wore White gloves. He was smoking a pipe. I suspect he is James Marsh. Yes, the same one that was accused of making a compact with the devil.

The other two males were dressed in suits and overcoats. They appeared to have been out on the town with their mates, who were dressed in evening gowns with plunging neck lines, pearls adorned their necks, and their heels were worn by them. They seemed surprised to see him here with this woman lying on the coffee table. He gave them coca to snort. The gents lit their cigars; they smelled of alcohol. The men wore ascots and pleated pants.

The women wore gowns with a plunging neckline. Their bodies had silk blouses beneath the gowns, with pearl buttons. Their hands were covered in cocktail gloves. They were laughing with their male counterparts. They pulled out their purses and cigarettes. Their faces were done up with makeup. One of them looked alluring to me. I wanted to speak with her, but I knew I could not do this. If I did, my being here would be presented to them. I wished to see them unawares.

They appeared happy to see him here with this woman lying on the table.

There was one woman’s body lying on the table in the middle of the room; she looked as though she was either asleep or dead. Her hands lay by her side on a coffee table, her lower legs hung off the right side of the table. She wore a corset with red stays, floral lace cups. She wore black stockings.

The man is wearing a monocle on his left eye. He lifted a dagger from the table top and drove it into her chest. Her mouth opened to scream, but no sound came out. The man reached inside the chest and drew out her heart. It was still beating.

The figure I followed into the chamber had what I thought was a pointed hat. I saw now that it wasn’t a hat. But its head, wings were protruding from its back. It shifted as it moved; some tentacles hung from its shoulders. I was growing nauseous from the scent. There was a scent that filled the air that made my eyes water. This scent made me gasp to breathe the air. It was sour and putrid.

The women lifted their dresses to allow it to advance toward them, the women said,”Please make love to me. They screamed, cried and wept. For it to do this to them. It advanced toward them. The women busied themselves in order to be entered by it. I wanted to stop them from doing this to them.

It drew up the women’s skirts to have carnal knowledge with them. After it finished with them. They were gasping to breathe the air. Blood ran from the portion that it had entered their bodies, their breath caught in their throats. They opened their mouths and screams filled the air. They sounded as though they were screaming, “Yes Drive it deeper inside me. I want it all. PLease, I beg of you to do this to me. Please!” Their hands tried to hold on to its buttocks.

Both of the women fell asleep. I saw a stream of blood fall from the monster from its groin. Their eyes were large. Their eyes closed. They feel sleepy. Their breath continued to slow to a near non-existent. Tears spilled from their eyes.

The being began to turn away from them to face the man with the monocle, It grasped his shoulder to have him look at its face, he smiled. He turned to face the men holding the woman’s arms and legs. The being stepped away from him for the moment/ It turned to face the study where I presently was watching its actions.

I was appalled by what I had seen happening there. It looked over at me. I froze, I dived behind the door through which it had entered the living room, It advanced toward where I was. I crawled across the floor. It entered the room, looked about the study, then walked back into the room where the woman still alive lay. She was trying to elude the hands of the two men dressed in their suits, who had grasped her appendages. She looked into the eyes of the man who had directed them to do this.

The man who lifted the dagger turned to face the room where it and him peered toward me. The man had begun to chant. They did not see him and they did this. The woman woke, she looked at the women on the couches whose mouths hung agape. She screamed,”NO! In God's name no!”
She was struggling to be free of their hands. She cried. She sobbed.

The monster and he walked toward where I hid. When the man stepped into the study to look around. I knelt behind a wall of books and scrolls. The man stepped out of the way of the monster, it advanced further inside. It turned about to leave the room.

I was fortunate that he did not see me. I crept back to where I was watching it do whatever they would do here. The man and it stole back to the body of the woman.

It walked toward the woman lying on the table. The man with the White gloves drew up a dagger to drive it into the woman’s chest. A fog began to roll into the chamber. Through this fog, I saw the thing reach out to accept the woman’s heart as it still beat.

It had talons for hands. It took the heart that the man was holding and lifted it towards its green head. Then withdrew its hand from its head. The heart looked no longer like a heart, but it was still beating.

It turned toward where I was. I ran out of the house through the door I used to get in. There was a fishy scent that filled the air. My lungs grew taunt. My eyes watered.”

The rest of the page was water-stained and wrinkled. Flattening the page.

“How did he know where to go?” I asked as I looked at my associates.

“Where was he?” Phil asked as he looked up from his typewriter. He hit the carriage return.

“The Whate house!” My partner said,

“What the hell was he doing there? Most people steer clear of that house. Especially at this time of day and this day?” The sergeant said his face had a frown on it. His hands froze above the home row keys he looked at me. The blood drained from his face, his eyes were wide in horror.

Thunder still roared in the street, the windows shook and shuddered beneath its wraith, The water poured from the sky to the street.

“He stole inside the house to look at what was happening there. I know about the rumors, but which ones are really what we suspect was happening there?” I said as I walked over to the stove, where I could get some tea, which I poured for myself.

“Rumors have it that the house is visited on May 31 and October 31st. By people who believe in Satan,” the sergeant said as he shifted his body about to have his foot relax from the gout he had on his leg.

“From the looks of what the reporter said, It was something that was there, but it wasn’t a devil or a demon, but something else indeed,” Vandal said as he looked over at the sergeant. His skin was still Whate.

My blood ran cold. What was he describing? It sounded like it looked like the statue of who or what I found beneath his outstretched right hand? I did not know. I needed answers to this problem before me.

The coroner came in later this day, the sun was rising. Now. He shivered as he tried to warm up. The photos would take some time to look at with the toner set into them. He said, “I did not find any of the bodies you spoke of. Are you sure you have seen them there?”

“Yes, I asked Vandal if he would confirm it for you” I said as I glared at him, he was questioning my sanity. Wasn’t he?

“The three males were part of the Marsh family and the Whate house. The one with the knife was John Whate; he was believed dead. I found this by looking at his ring on his wedding hand.”
He said, as he looked at me.

None of this made any sense to me, there were rumors that the house was cursed. I thought as I remembered the words that were said about the house that was this house.

The reporter had written down some names in his pad of papers, what he had said was, The two other males were of the Marsh house. Timothy Baxter, the owner of the ship that is the largest ship in the harbor, was the first one on the couch by the right. William Ebenezer Marsh is the son of Obed Marsh.

The two women who had died of fear were Lady Dereta Marsh, wife of William Ebenezer Marsh, and her daughter, Belinda Vicky.

I asked no one in particular, the faces of the other officers looked confused upon hearing me say this. “The woman who was sacrificed to this, whatever you want to call it, we don't know who she was. Do we?”

“What the hell happened to the family?” I asked as I looked at the coroner,

“An idea as to what was going on there in the Whate House?" Vandal said as he stood there watching the other people in the station house.

“There was a compact with John Whately’s ring on it, and his signature with another thing that looked like a signature of something there.”

“The map showed the coastline of the devil’s reef, and the town of Innsmouth and the other communities on the east coast,” the coroner said as he looked into the frightened eyes of Vandal who looked away.

“What is the meaning of this compact?” I asked as I tried to figure it out.

“I don’t know, the contract is written in a tongue I do not recognize,” the coroner said as he looked at me. I was looking at the pad.

“No idea as to what the hell was being said in it?” Vandal inquired, hoping he could gain an answer to his question.

“Not a clue!”

“Do you suppose we should ask the Marsh’s about their boys?” I asked, looking into the wide eyes of the coroner, his skin was as White as bleached flour, his hands trembled.

“How about checking with the family? They’ve been awaiting the arrival of their son. Aren’t they?”. The sergeant said as he looked at us.

We began to walk toward the house of the Marsh’s. It was a prosperous house. A garbled roof with its huge windows on the ground floor. There stood a man at the door, who awaited the arrival of people. He was dressed in a black jacket and a starched shirt, and his hands were in White gloves. A cigarette protruded from his mouth. He looked at us as if he was seeing shit on his shoes. He frowned.

We stepped before him. He looked at us with disdain. He stepped into our wake. We stopped before him, I said, ”I wish to have a meeting with Jackson Marsh?”

“Does he know you will call?”

“No! But it concerns his son! I have important news to give him,” I said as I took a step toward him.

“Constable. You must be identified as coming in to see him. It must be done properly, I will have you know this! Do you understand me?”

“Yes, I will wait. Until you tell me to enter the house. If you will do this for us!” Vandal said as he looked at the gent. The man reached for a button to tell Jackson Marsh that someone had come to see him.

A servant appeared at the door, and he looked at us. He stepped inside after seeing us there, he took my hand and ushered us inside the house. It was huge, similar to the house where the bodies were found.

I looked about, there were two doors with stained-glass windows for the doors. There was a wall between the doors. The man walked further inside the house. Taking us with him, he had us wait at the bottom of the stairs.

He entered a room, where he had come out of a moment later with a man dressed in his bedclothes. He glared at us as we stood there awaiting his arrival. He had on a lounge coat. His pajamas had stripes on them.

He walked down the stairs to speak with us. He said,” What is the meaning of this? How dare you do this? What hour is this?”

“Ten o’clock! Sir!”

“At an hour such as this. Why have the police arrived at my doorstep?” He said as he pulled on the cuff of his dress shirt.













The whately house in Innsmouth
C4

"You have to come back later today," Mister Marsh said as he stepped away from the stairs, turning his back to us.

"We have come back to tell you that your son was found last night at the older Whate house. He's dead," I said as I watched his body jerk and stop moving about. He turned to face me again.

My partner saw the elderly man step toward us, beside the butler. He began to advance toward the man who knew was looking toward us. He looked at him, and wanted to speak with him as well.

"What are you talking about?" he questioned my words. His eyes were downcast. He closed his hands as he began to lift his head to look at me and my partner. He was crying, his body rocked and shook.

"John is dead. He was slain in the house that your brother owned. Until he died, that is," I said as I saw his left hand close into a fist. His skin began to turn pale. He stumbled and fell to the floor before the door through which he had come.

"What are you talking about? He is alive. I know this? I would have been told that he died," Mr. Marsh said as he looked at me. He was shaking.

"I am afraid that he was killed today. The house was as it always had been before he had entered it. There were bodies that they had found in the house. One had her heart carved out of her chest. There were two women who were, I believe were raped by something. James summoned there," I said as I looked at his face.

He did not look at me; he looked away from us. He closed his eyes, and tears spilled from them to arrive on his cheeks. He trembled. He asked,"What are you talking about? What do you mean by "summoned?"

"You know the other house on Dun!” Vandal said. As he watched him heard these words.

“The house? What do you mean, the other house?” James questioned . His face looked puzzled and confused.

“The house on Dun!” I said as I looked at him. I had drawn a pencil from my jacket to write down what he was to say to me.

“Ah that house. No one should have entered the house. Especially on this day. When were they there?”

“At three o’clock and 14 minutes was when this had happened, there!” Vandal said as he peered into James face, his nose was red. He was squinting as he looked into his face, the blood drained from his face.

“It looked like what had happened there. The thing had a head like a squid, arms muscular, and legs the same, having talons for hands and feet. Tentacles that were where its shoulder should have been. a humanoid torso, and reptilian legs," I said as I looked at him.

"God! No! It was here?" he said as he began to look at me.

"What is it?"

"A god of the sea. I am afraid of what I have to say about being?"

"Do you have an idea as to what it was trying to do there?" I asked as I stepped toward him.

He glared at me, spat on the tiles before himself. He closed his hands tightly, and the blood drained from them. "I don't know what he was trying to do? He wanted to write another compact for himself and it. It should not have killed them all. It should have allowed him to live if he was of pure blood. I suppose not from the sound of things that happened there."

“What are you talking about?” I asked.

“The being that they were praying to is a god of long ago? That rules over the waters of earth. It should not have happened. God should not have been given this heart. It may rise again,” he said as tears flowed down his cheeks he tried to climb back to his feet.

“What are you talking about?” my partner asked as he walked toward Mr Whately.

“This god who is it?” I asked as I looked at him, he lay on the floor, the butler came toward him and us. My partner began to walk toward him as he struggled to regain his footing.

The butler said,”I think you have to leave now. Do you understand me! Go!”

“You do not understand what my brother has done. We are forsaken now. The earth must do something to protect it from him. I don’t know what you must do to protect the planet from it. God! He should not have opened the portal. I warned him not to do this?” Whately said as he peered into his face.

“Yes, I understand,” I said as the butler tried to grab my arm to drag me away from the house.

Vandal watched the butler grasp my arm, Vandal stepped before him to block him from moving toward me. Vandal said,”Unhand him!”

“Sir, does he have to go?” the butler asked as he released my arm.

It hurt when he grabbed my arm, I began to rub my forearm to get the blood flowing there. I glared at him, I was tempted to arrest him. However I knew he had made a mistake in grabbing me by the arm to show me to the door. I said,”Get your hands off me!” as I drew my arm out of his grasp. He held my arm like a barnacle would the bottom of a ship. I winced. I began to glare at him.

Vandal said,”I think we should go?”

I turned to face him as I began to walk away from the Whately estate,




























THE WHATELY House of Innsmouth
C5

Vandal and I looked at him, we did not know what he was talking about. A god of the oceans is what he has said made no sense to us.

"What are you talking about, a contract with this god?" I asked as I looked at his face. There was a look of shock on his face, and he clapped a hand over his mouth. The blood drained from his face, HIs eyes widened in horror. As if to say, What have I said to you! He began to lower his hand from his mouth.

I stepped toward him. I wanted to grab him by the arm to drag him outside. So, I could get the answer out of him, I needed to know the answer to these puzzling pieces he gave to us. To answer the question that remained in my mind,

Vandal joined me in reaching him. He began to retreat from us both. He stared at us as if we had grown another head on our shoulders, He raced backward toward his door to his bed chamber. He got there before we could grab him. He closed the door to his room.

I looked at the door as it closed.

I suspect we should check out why the reporter was there at the house. It made little sense to us why he was there at that time of night. Unless we believed in tales that people tell in regards to this hour of the morning.

It was bugger all nothing real.

There was something odd about this investigation. Vandal picked up the phone, and I began to type out the information we had so far on this case. We needed to speak with the university. There was an article I read about a statue that sounded remarkably like the one I found in the reporter's outstretched hand.

There was a report of a man arrested in Dunwich. He was babbling incoherently about something, I can not make heads or tails of his speech. His hands were covered in blood. They took him to the asylum to be treated there. This happened on October 31, he refused to look at the officials who put their cuffs on him and carried him away.

There was an archaeologist who was studying the statue at the Miskatonic University. When I mentioned it to the university professor, he said that someone had found another one of them here. It is one of the cities in the port of Dunwich it had come from a person desiring to pawn it off. Saying it came from perhaps of the eastern African nations.

The professor tested it for blood samples on the base. Also found it to be human blood on the statue, its hands did not hold anything in them, It was sitting on the base of it. The markings looked unlike anything that they had ever seen before. The person who brought this in could not be sure as to what or where it had truly come from.

I walked toward the university. I was going to see what I could learn from the professor who had acquired the statue from the pawn shop. It was a warm day. Birds were flying in the air above, and there were wisps of cloud in the air. The sun was above the skyline. It had been a long ride to get there.

The university had several towers and structures beside these towers. Several students were walking out of the university they looked to be in their twenties. A few were women who held their notebooks in their hands. Their purses were large. The doorway was ten feet tall with a double door. There were huge windows in the building. I walked toward the doors, there were men inside the structure. I walked toward a desk in the middle of the structure.

There was a report of a man arrested in Dunwich. H\e was babbling coherently about something, we can not make heads nor tails of his speech. His hands were covered in blood. They took him to the asylum to be treated there. This happened on October 31, he refused to look at the officials who put their cuffs on him and carried him away.

There was an archaeologist who had been studying the statue at the Miskatonic university. When I mentioned it to the university professor, he said that there was someone who had found another one of them here. It is of the cities in the port of Dunwich it had come from a person desiring to pawn it off. Saying it came from one of the eastern Africa nations.

The professor tested it for blood samples on the base. Also found it to be human blood on the statue, its hands did not hold anything in them, It was sitting on the base of it.The markings looked unlike anything that they have ever seen before. He, the person who brought this in, could not be sure as to what or where it had truly come from.

I walked toward the university. I was going to see what I could learn from the professor who had acquired the statue from the pawn shop. It was a warm day. Birds were flying in the air above head, there were wisps of cloud in the air, the sun was above the skyline. It had been a long ride to get there.

The university had several towers and structures beside these towers. There were several students walking out of the university they looked to be in their twenties. A few were women they held their notebooks in their hands. Their purses were large. The doorway was with double doors and it was ten feet tall. There were huge windows in the building. I walked toward the doors, there were men inside the structure I walked toward a desk in the middle of the structure.

The secretary looked at me. He said,”What are you here for officers?”

I said,”I am looking for the professor who found the statue in Dunwich? With the odd markings on it because I think I found one in the same in a house in Innsmouth? I would like to speak with him about the deaths of seven people in Innsmouth.”

“He is presently teaching a class in the east auditorium? He will be ending his class shortly. If you can get there?” he said as he smiled easily.

I headed out the door toward the auditorium where he presently was. I saw a man walking out the door. He had a bushy beard and mustache, in his hands he held a folder in his hands. He looked at me, and said.”What is it the officer that brings you here?”

“I want to discuss with you that statue you purchased in Dunwich? What can you tell me about it if you won’t mind talking to me about it? Why did you purchase it?” I said as I stepped into his path. As the other students stepped out of the auditorium.

“It looked like something that anthropologists would be interested in studying presently. It looked unlike anything I have seen previously,” he said, but I had heard stories of something like it in the region in eastern Africa. The people who spoke of it reacted in fear of saying anything about it to anyone else.
.
“I found another in a house in Innsmouth. I think there may be some correlation with the one you found in the pawn shop.” I said as I was watching him.

I was worried about seeing this happen to him a few beads of sweat appeared on his brow, he staggered away from me. We were concerned with what he said to us. He lost his balance as he fell to ground

“Any idea as to what the statue represented to the people who made it?”

“Not a clue from the looks of it. It could be regarded as marine life perhaps but I can’t be sure.”

“I witnessed a woman being sacrificed to a being exactly like the statue, you purchased.”

“I see. Did you see anything else involved in this matter before you?” he asked as if I could tell him what I saw in the house.

“A man holding a dagger in his hands as he drove the dagger home, he carved out an opening in her chest, to reach in and remove the heart. There were also two women laying on couches, where there were men whose lap held their heads.

There had been chants that were made before this had happened. We found the notes of a journalist if you call him that. That I am assured of having been there. The bodies turned to wisps of smoke or dust. A wind rose up and carried what I saw away from the interior of the house.