Snodland

It seemed that every train, up and down the line, had brought nothing but crowds of gawkers and shutterbugs. Almost literally like moths to a flame they came to see the chaos and destruction wreaked by a curiously unstoppable fire. The Snodland Papermill, with its six acres of buildings and countless tons of pulp, was reduced to still smoldering ashes on an unforgettable Sunday morning in August. The circumstances that surrounded its immolation were yet unknown to the general public, and I believed it would likely remain that way forever if not for the visitation of an almost forgotten acquaintance. The story he related to me I hesitate to even put to paper, with the fear that somehow it makes the fantastic more real and true.

On a dim Monday afternoon, the day following the great fire, I received notice there was an unexpected guest to my residence, offering the name of Tyler Washburn. Recalling the name as an employee from long in the past, I accepted, and invited him to my library. Disheveled and more than slightly distracted, he explained that he was in town during the fire by no coincidence. He was employed by the Lancashire firm that was hired to effect repairs and maintenance in the papermill, and it was none other than he that was the cause of the blaze. Stunned and nearly speechless at this revelation, I begged him to continue.

He was supervising work in the engine room, when he noticed an almost imperceptible slushing noise was coming from another nearby room. Tyler advised his crew to continue work while he investigated. With lantern in hand, he followed this mysterious sound to its end - a solid wall - or so it seemed. Pressing his ear to the surface, he could hear the slushing liquid noise emanating from beyond. Pushing off, the wall clearly appeared unstable. With surprisingly little effort, Tyler was able to slide this wall aside, revealing a dark passageway beyond.

At this point in his story Tyler paused, a queer look across his face. As I set down my empty glass, his eyes followed to the table. It was strange, he noted, that the sight of water should now give him such an uneasy feeling. After refilling, I assured him that it was nothing more than standard local water, but this seemed to do little in relaxing his obvious tension. Nevertheless, he continued his story.

Being unfamiliar with the layout of the papermill, he believed perhaps another piece of machinery may have been malfunctioning. With the mill empty, as it always was on Sunday, there would be no one else to tend to it until Monday. Hindsight, of course, is always perfect, and against his better judgment Tyler entered the passageway. As his weak lantern light did little to push forward the inky blackness, he instead used his hands to guide along the rough walls, careful not to lose his step on the downward sloping floor.

The still air in this narrow chamber was getting noticeably cooler, and the thought to turn back then crossed Tyler's mind. Peering back towards the entry, he spotted a hooded silhouette blocking the retreat. Before Tyler could call out to the mysterious figure, the wall was shut. All light, save for the dying lantern, was lost. Footsteps began approaching - then faster and faster to nearly a full run. With only a second of thought Tyler turned and ran down the passageway, away from his pursuer, stumbling and nearly falling many times. Suddenly, the floor fell away, and he was plunged into icy water.

Struggling to stay afloat, Tyler noticed the cavern he had chanced upon seemed strangely aglow with a flickering yellow light. Chanting... echoes... and the sound of stone grinding on stone. While bobbing up and down in the water, Tyler strained to listen to the chanting. "Kwah-Ooly-Ah", they seemed to be saying. The grinding gave way to a low rumble as the water churned angrily. Something exploded from the water beneath him and threw him helplessly into the solid cavern wall.

In the remaining pool of water stood a body of human proportions, but certainly not a man at all. It was a creature standing easily five or more meters tall, covered from head to toe in matted grey fur. The hulking figure flexed and snarled, baring wolf-like fangs from its snout. In a booming, growling voice it announced its presence. "Who has summoned Kwa Ulia, Nightlord of Luna?" Tyler noticed for the first time the other cloaked watchers, similar to his pursuer, begin to slowly approach the creature. Then, from the other end of the cavern, a wood and steel contraption was pulled to the pool rim. A woman was strapped in the middle, wide eyed and paralyzed with fear.

Tyler, careful to remain unnoticed, slowly made his way toward the woman. Something within told him they meant this woman to be a sacrifice to the creature, and he was determined to put a stop to it. Despite his best efforts, Tyler could not remain silent for long, and a slip of a rock gave away his location. The wolf-creature turned its massive frame, locking fiery red eyes on him. Without thought, Tyler darted for the woman and easily pulled her from the contraption. The cloaked men seemed frozen in shock as Tyler ran passed them, clutching the woman in his arms.

He ran back they way he believed he had come, the woman shouting in demand of what was going on all the way. A thunderous howl came from the passageway behind him. The nearly deafening noise seemed to shake the underground to its core. The cloaked men had begun their chase. Through the darkness, bouncing from wall to wall, Tyler somehow navigated his way back to the surface. Bursting through the fake wall, Tyler and his passenger fell sprawling to the floor.

Scrambling to his feet and grabbing the woman's hand, Tyler shouted to his work crew to get out of the building immediately. The unexpected happened when the woman threw herself free from him. "What have you done?", she shouted in a shrill voice. "You've ruined it. You've ruined it all. Oh, Kwa Ulia, what has he done to us?" She sprinted away, with Tyler giving easy chase. As he laid hands on her shoulder she lost her balance and fell over the work crew's equipment. An oil lantern, still carelessly lit, rolled and shattered into one of the cotton cable ropes for the enormous double-crank engine. Flames, small at first, easily caught and began dancing up the tightly wound strands to the machinery. Disaster! Tyler knew the whole of the mill would be incinerated within minutes, and a warning must be made to the town.

The crazed woman had already fled the room to parts unknown, and Tyler's pursuers would surely be at his back soon. Finally fearing for his own life then, he ran from the building. Already ugly black and grey smoke was curling skyward from the stacks. And so the emergency began from there, with people helplessly trying to put out the growing fire. Nearby houses were simultaneously being evacuated of occupants and their belongings. Alas, the mill was nearly a total loss, and the scattered household items littered the town from front yard to church yard.

Back in the present, Tyler looked out the window, watching the crowds beginning to thin and the sun starting to slide beneath the horizon. "I live in fear of that creature.", he said to me. "I don't know whether to believe it is dead or alive." Rubbing my chin in thought, I responded, "Dead for the next 100 years at least." Tyler, brow furrowed, looked at me quizzically. "Kwa Ulia can only be summoned once every hundred years, with a proper sacrifice, but you saw fit to put an end to that, didn't you?" I could feel my back beginning to arch involuntarily and the razor claws sprouting from my fingertips. With the only exit barred, Tyler stood little chance of resisting me in such a confined space. With joy, I rended him to pieces.

Now I leave this note as a warning to future generations. It is true that a single man, full of bravado and foolish courage, can bring down the greatest of beasts. However, in 100 years our ceremony will be repeated, and Kwa Ulia will walk the earth among his wolf brethren again. Until then, beware my children! Meddling men with nothing but malice and evil in their hearts will bring nothing less than the extinction of werewolves.