Imogena

[Author's Note: This is a Lovecraft fanfic. If you don't like HPL and/or fanfics, don't read. P.S., I wrote this a few years back. If I made a mistake somewhere, just drop me a line. I won't mind.]


When I last saw Imogena, she was packing her bags and leaving our home for the city. We’d had our final argument, and she was destined to head off for greater things, whereas I was doomed to stay in a tiny town forever. Besides, she was far more into the occult than I had ever been, and no matter what New Age technique she used, the answer would always be for her to leave me.

I was sad to see her go, and I loved her although I suspect she didn’t love me in the same way. I watched her ride the taxi to the airport and was too ashamed to follow her out. If I went with her to the airport, I would more than likely create a scene in public, the one fear she could not tolerate. So I waved her on, but she never looked back once.

For almost a year, I never heard from her, and I imagined she found another and was content in her new life. I, too, moved on, though I never had another lover because my heart still belonged to Imogena.

One day, I was surprised to find that I had a message on my answering machine from her. Even more surprising was the message itself: “Peter? Are you there? I need you now, more than ever. Please, give me a call as soon as you can.”

I wrote down the number hastily and saved the message before calling the number she’d left. When she answered, I heard fear in her voice, and I became afraid suddenly. I asked her how she was doing, to which she replied “I’m not well, Peter. Someone has been stalking me, and I’m afraid. Could you come down here?”

The next day, I was in my tired car, running up towards the city, my heart beating quickly. I found her apartment quite easily, though, and was ringing at her door minutes later. The woman who answered the door, however, was not the Imogena I remembered.

Imogena, once a tanned and exotic creature, was pale and wan, her lovely figure now emancipated beyond what I thought possible. Her lovely, tapered fingers were deformed into claws, while her delicate hair was coarse and grayed at the temples, despite the fact that she was only in her twenties. I could only stare at the withered frame of my ex-lover.

“Peter,” she whispered, “I’ve missed you. Please, come in before anyone sees me like this.”

I walked in quickly, walking past Imogena and into the filthy apartment. Books lay scattered over the floor and on the coffee table, some of which were quite old and near rotting. From somewhere amidst the debris of paper and relic books came a smell of some food or animal in the middle of decaying to nothing. The walls appeared to have some sort of writing covering them in swirling writing.

Imogena brushed past my arm, making me jump. She asked me to sit on a dingy chair, and I had to move a few papers before I could. She explained that once she had gotten to the city, she had acquired new friends with links to the supernatural that she never imagined before. These “friends” passed on many books of power that they’d studied and Imogena became wrapped up in a world of superstition and fear.

“There are ancient gods hidden in old book,” she explained. “They’ve been trapped on this earth for longer than humanity has existed. Do you remember how I told you that there is a goddess who bares good tides and peace for all?”

I answered that I did, though I had no idea what Imogena’s old beliefs had to do with her current position.

“I was wrong,” she whispered, tears running down her face. “Almost all religions all over the world are wrong. There are no kind gods, and none care about us. They want out of this place, even if it means annihilation of our kind. We are ants, an annoying irritation, in a world of evil gods, Peter. We are doomed. Even if we acknowledge the gods and worship them, they will destroy us. That is, if we are lucky.”

“Is this why you’ve become as you have now?” I asked. “Is this because of these damn books? What’s happened to the confident woman I once knew? What’s happened to your firm beliefs?”

Imogena gave a weak chuckle. “My eyes have been opened,” she said, smiling. “Those without the knowledge are doomed to die horribly because of their ignorance. Those with the knowledge have the option of trying to inform the public or killing themselves ahead of time. We are not able to deal with the insanity the gods have brought in their stead. Don’t look at me so, Peter. You may not believe, but you will in time.

“I fear I will not be on this world much longer. My body is too weak to hold on to the ancients’ spirit, as I have been filled with their magic, even for a moment. I will soon travel on byakhee to Algol, the demon star. I will die there, as I will come close only to spit on that dreaded face. I will depart this night, before the god of yellow should find me and destroy me. I want you there, love.”

I tried to protest her insane thoughts, but she refused to hear. She asked that I stay and take her to a field in the country. I promised, no matter how I despaired, that I would soon have to have her institutionalized. Imogena suggested that I take a long nap for the upcoming trip, so I propped myself up in the easy chair and slept fitfully until she awoke me.

“It is time,” she whispered, draping a black lace shawl over her head, covering her face.

I stood up dizzily and ran my fingers through my hair. It stuck up in places were I’d lain on it. I tried to push it down, but Imogena gripped my arm in a surprisingly strong grasp and said, “Your hair is of no consequence. We are all of no consequence.”

I found myself shuddering suddenly and I shook my head to clear it. “Where do we go?” I asked when the sliver of cold had released its grip on my spine.

Imogena took her hand from my arm and said, “I shall show you the way.”

~*~

For the first few moments, the two of us were silent. She pointed out what roads to take until she said, “We shall stay on this straightway for a while. You have questions, so ask and I will try to answer you.”

I cleared my throat and asked the first question that popped into my head. “How did this happen?”

From the corner of my eye, I saw Imogena give a grim smile. “Yes,” she said, “you will want to know how I’ve changed and awoken myself. I cannot give you all the specifics, but I can tell you of the basics.

“When I left you, it wasn’t because I didn’t love you, Peter. I loved you so much, I feared staying with you. Do you remember Nancy?”

I thought for a moment before saying I did.

“She was a Satanist for a long time before we met her. She gave up Satanism and since then has been jittery and nervous. I thought it was because she had found a flaw in her religion, and that guilt and fear of retribution had taken hold of her.

“One day, when Ward, her brother, had a neighborhood bar-b-que, I went. You were away at business, if you remember. Ward had never been too kind to Nancy, and I suspect he still enjoys his hobby of Occultism and may be displeased that Nancy stopped. (I say hobby because he only likes to shock, and Nancy proved an invaluable resource.) Well, Ward said something cruel to Nancy that made her burst into tears and run into the house. He thought no one had been watching, and when he turned his back, I rushed into the house after her.

“I found her in a room filled with drawings of horrendous creatures and papers with unknown writing scribbled down in dark red ink. She was sobbing and clutching a thick book with a dark brown cover. It looked ancient and I found myself mesmerized by the sight of it, though the book had a title on neither spine nor cover. I forced myself to look away and go to Nancy’s aid instead.

“She looked up as I approached and threw the book at me. The book flew towards my head and I caught it with both hands before looking up where Nancy sat. She was stock still, her eyes glazed over, and not even her chests rose and fell with her breaths. I crept up to her, where she sat with her arms by her side, and touched her shoulder. I jerked my hand back, afraid I’d been burned. But it wasn’t the burn of heat, no. It was the burning feeling of extreme cold.

“My touch unbalanced her and she fell onto the floor, breaking into a thousand pieces like an ice sculpture breaking apart. I couldn’t scream because my mouth seemed sealed shut and my eyes fixed upon the book as soon as I knew she was dead. I screamed inside my head, however, but my hands quickly opened the book and a blinding light overtook everything. When it dissipated, I was standing in our bedroom with the book firmly closed on the floor.

“You know the stories, of course, of Ward finding his sister still frozen on her bedroom floor, parts of her broken off and thawing. They buried her frozen, because when they went to cremate her, she wouldn’t burn! That was supposed to be a rumor, but I know better. I know that what took her in that instant will surely take me as well.

“I began reading the book and learning its horrid secrets. At first, my faith held through. I thought ‘to each his or her own,’ but soon my faith faded. Not only did the book hold secrets from beyond, it holds newspaper clippings that people have put in to show that the book doesn’t lie. There was Rick’s Lake, the entire place of Arkham, a few glimpses of R’lyeh, pictures of the flaming star Algol, mentioning of strange green stone and pieces of meteorite metal that vanishes within days. The book contains more than one would think it could hold. When I counted the pages without glancing at them, they came to two hundred and eighty-four. But when I counted off each page while I glanced through, I came up with four hundred and twenty-three! And then I began reading some pages, and I found pages that I hadn’t seen upon the first glance!”

“Imogena,” I began, “don’t say these things. You may have miscounted. Some of the pages may have been stuck together.”

“They were not!” she screamed, the truck cab echoing her cry. “I am no fool, Peter!”

“Calm down,” I said as soothing as possible. “I’m not calling you a fool. You have to understand that it’s difficult for me to believe what you’re saying—“

“Yes,” she said, interrupting with her melancholy. “I apologize. I have forgotten that it is so easy for someone to become blind, but not so easy to see again. I forgot the ease with which man draws itself into a general lethargic apathy.”

“Thanks,” I said dryly.

Imogena smiled then, and I could almost see the girl I knew and loved shine through for a second. But then the smile faded and she was the ancient creature before me once more. “Peter,” she whispered, “you must forgive me.”

“I do,” I answered, smiling. “I forgive you and I love you. Just say the word and I’ll turn back and we’ll be together again. Forever.”

Imogena gave a faint sigh that held the slight twinge of a sob in it. “I wish it were that easy,” she said quietly. “I wish I could go back into the bliss that is ignorance. But I cannot. My mind won’t accept a sudden denial of the truth anymore than I could convince myself that you don’t really exist. I love you too much to risk harm coming to you. And it would, if I ignored my encroaching death. My soul will travel on to Algol, as I’ve told you, but it will then be destroyed and if there be a heaven or hell, we shall meet in neither. Such is the fate of those who chose knowledge over happiness.”

“You’re scaring me, Imogena,” I whispered.

“I know,” she answered back. “I scare myself.”

The trip to the cleared field was a short one after that. It was an average clearing that was just off of the gravel road we turned down. I stood by the truck, almost afraid to leave it, in case I’d have to drive away in a hurry. Imogena kissed my cheek before heading out into the middle of the clearing. She stood, waiting for something, and she only stared upwards.

For about an hour, we waited in the clearing. Then, just as suddenly as her phone call came, she whispered, “I love you, Peter. Kill the child.”

I stared at here, but she didn’t move. A cold wetness brushed my face and I cried out, temporarily blinded. I rubbed my face and eyes, trying to fend off the unseen attacker. I remembered Imogena and looked to where she stood. She was still standing, her eyes closed and her face peaceful. I glanced about the clearing, but could find no source of the cold, wet object that had brushed against me.

My instincts cried for my eyes to seek the heavens, and as I looked up, I saw a few stars blotted out, as if some black creature was far up into the sky. I kept looking, watching for some sign. It was then that my eyes adjusted to my stargazing, and I saw a pinpoint of red. I shivered, staring at the star that was surely staring back at me. The red star, which I supposed was Algol, flared momentarily, then returned to normal before disappearing back into the dark universe.

I looked away from the unholy heavens, in a deep, burrowing sadness. I knew, without having to look at Imogena, that my once-beloved was dead. I did not think the cold wetness was my Imogena, but in the instant I thought about it, I knew it was her ride to the stars, to the dreaded Algol. I felt the word “dreaded” was best suited for the evil, red star, as I could feel many eyes staring down upon me from Algol, and while it was away from my sight, it still watched me.

Finally gathering my wits, I hurried to Imogena, my heart refusing to believe what my instincts told me, my mind still dizzied and terrified. She stood, never moving, and when I touched her face, she teetered, off balance. I pulled my hand back quickly, my hand burned by the cold of her skin. She fell forward, toppling onto the ground, shattering like a cheap glass bauble onto a hard floor. I screamed then, my mind blacking out until I found myself driving on the road, traveling on to an unknown destination.

I traveled the rest of the night, stumbling into a ramshackle hotel on the side of the road. A sign in bright lights read, “Easy Sleep Inn, Air Conditioning, VACANCY.” I pulled in and bought a room for the day, my eyes heavy and my mind weary. I lay on the hard bed, wrapped in thin blankets, and prayed for sleep. It took several hours before I could sleep.

When I awoke, I could remember no dreams, and for a dreamless sleep, I was thankful. The sleep helped clear my mind, though I was still in shock over Imogena’s death. I moved like a dancer in a slow-moving ballet. Each movement I made, I moved carefully, slowly. Something in the back of my mind was afraid of moving too quickly and sending me into a quick dive into madness. I showered, mostly to warm myself with hot, pounding water, then toweling off and getting under the covers of the bed. I thought to sleep again, but I changed my mind, my thoughts centered on the peculiars of the night before. In an effort to move into a shock-induced apathy, I turned on the television, not bothering to find any certain program.

A news program was on, and I stared at it indifferently, watching the faces give news, faces that speak but do not seem to feel. They gave the news blandly; as if not alarmed by murders, disappearances, or Mother Nature taking back what wilds had once belonged to her. Someone on the news team made a joke about the weather, and they laughed, easily going from shock, to wonderment, to easy going, rivers changing course in a matter of seconds.

A newswoman, quite pretty with auburn hair and shimmering hazel eyes, finished laughing at the weatherman’s joke and her face changed again, but to amazement. I sat up straighter, suddenly infused with interest. Her opening sentence hooked me.
“The star Algol shone a bit brighter last night than it has in the past ten years,” she spoke, happy in her ignorance. “Scientists at the Wark Institute report having seen the star light up bright enough to be seen without the help of a telescope. Dr. William Jenkins, lead astronomer at Wark, says that this phenomenon is really quite harmless, just a momentary burst, as our own sun has occasional sun bursts.”

A picture came up on the television screen beside her head of a large, swollen, red star. I got up and stood close to the screen, looking closely at Algol. I ignored the newswoman’s noisome talking, and instead, peered at the red star. As I gazed, I saw spots on the star that weren’t just ordinary spots. I saw irises and pupils, thousands of eyes, ranging across Algol’s surface. I stood in front of the television screen, paralyzed in fear, and only when the picture disappeared did I find my ability to move again.
I sat down heavily onto the floor, my mind almost cracking inside my skull. I left the hotel then, determined to leave and to forget Imogena, Algol, and the creature that had swept across my body. But as I began to turn the ignition, I remembered Imogena’s last words, and while I had no idea what she meant by “kill the child”, I knew answers, however minor, were still left at her apartment. I started the truck and pulled onto the road, in the direction of Imogena’s last home.

It was dark when I found my way back to the apartment. I had slept a long time during the day, awakening in the evening, so it was inevitable that I should drive during the night. The drive unnerved me a bit, and I felt the ever-watchful eyes of Algol upon me. Even when I had entered the apartment building, I couldn’t feel safe. Arriving at Imogena’s apartment made me feel even more naked against the sky, as if the apartment was a window to Algol itself.

I was surprised when the apartment was the same, nothing changed. I rifled through a few pages and glanced at the title of a few books, not sure of what I was trying to find. I only knew that I hadn’t found it, and time was short.

I found Imogena’s bedroom, surprisingly immaculately clean. I looked through her drawers and closet to find a hidden compartment behind several stacks of shoeboxes. Inside the small hole, I found a book. The book, actually, the one item I had been searching for. The title had been burned onto the leather cover which wrapped around the ancient pages, and I had to stare at the name for a while before it came into focus. It read “Algol: Ancestor to the Lesser Gods”. I seized the book and suddenly found myself in the living room, sitting in an easy chair, the book open to the very end of the cursed tome.

Daylight filtered into the room, and I knew without any proof that I’d read the book and gained its horrible insights. I flipped through the book, recognizing all of the pages as ones I’d seen before. I trembled, amazed and horrified at my discovery. It was then that I heard a gurgling sound coming from inside the apartment. I started from the chair, hands letting go of the tome. I heard the sound again, and followed it further into the apartment.

I found a door I’d overlooked before, somehow hidden until the sounds made me aware of its appearance. I trembled in front of the door, my hands shaking as I turned the knob. I opened the door wide and looked inside. The small room was decorated as a nursery, stuffed animals and bright colors all around the room. But what should have been a happy room was coarsened by the exact objects placed in the room to make it happy.

The paint that decorated the walls and ceiling were made into ancient symbols, some pictures depicting huge, gory monsters. The stuffed animals seemed to glower at me as I entered, their black, plastic eyes watching me hungrily. I almost ran away in terror, but I stayed, convinced that the true horror laid within the white crib.

I advanced to the crib, afraid of what I would see, and as I peered over into the less than cheerful crib, I screamed until I thought my lungs would burst. I ran then, fleeing the apartment, only pausing to grab the Algol book and slam through the front door. As I ran, I could hear the creature in the crib give a mewling cry and try as I might, I could not block out the sound. I ran to my truck, sped away, and never looked back.

For days, I heard the sound of the creature’s wailing, even though I was hours away from the apartment and the cursed being in the crib. I heard, finally, almost a week later, its final cries as it died in its crib, starved without its mother’s milk. I sobbed with relief, though I know that my turning my back on the creature shall surely bring about terrible vengeance from its true parent, a child of the star Algol, I don’t care. I am relieved, and I shall not regret anything.

Do not think I killed an innocent child. As I begged for anyone to listen and hear the cries that only I could hear, I knew that the child was not of this earth. One glance at the child gave me the warning. For when I glanced at the creature, I saw a being with three fingers on each hand, four toes, five limbs in all, and its eyes. My God, it had as many red eyes as Algol, completely covering its entire body!