(extract from the short story The Ophiolatry. Since I am seeking publication for this it is only an extract. See the Explanatory Notes at the end…)
I had agreed to meet with him at the Ophiolatry because of the anonymity and privacy it afforded us both. Given the subject matter we had agreed to discuss and the several items we had to decide upon.
Originally designed for the ancient worship of serpents the Ophiolatry now served as little more than a secluded and abandoned museum of snakes and related creatures for the academic amusement of poignantly specialized college students seeking a career in the questionable study of reptiles.
Except by appointment, however, it was rarely occupied and almost never guarded. Mainly because there were no longer any living reptiles inhabiting the place. So there was need for neither security nor animal tender. Only the necessary attendance of the occasional fortnightly groundskeeper to ply his lonely trade as solitary groundskeeper. Yet even he would be absent tonight, as was precisely our plan in agreeing to rendezvous there.
Instead then of living beasts the halls were filled with other content, equally ominous, but entirely harmless, such as antique paintings and student sketch drawings of snakes and lesser reptiles of all kinds. Yet other and even more impressive art also embellished the halls. Including some very impressive statuary ranging from the ancient Greek representation of Laocoön and his sons being devoured by the Sea Serpents, or of Herakles mortally battling the Hydra to the more nearly modern, such as Siegfried slaying the dragon Fafnir with ringing Gramr. And beyond these there was a spectacular Basilisk cast in gilded bronze, and a small snake combed Cockatrice forged of what appeared to be rustless iron with small pearls for eyes and with a gem-dusted forked tongue.
The entire inner structure of the walls of the central hall were all coated in a greenish hue (produced perhaps by some phosphorescent substance – I did not know as I was no habitué, and it was night) that vaguely shone in the waxing moonlight, and gave them all the appearance of reflective and segmented ophidian scales. I readily concede that my imagination may have been heavily taxed but I could have also easily sworn that night to any magistrate so inclined to hear my tale that the walls did undulate unnaturally and without objective cause. Eventually I had to look away from the walls and towards my feet to avoid a surge of pressing nausea.
This singular effect however was redoubled in the inchoate lunar light by the surreal floors, which seemed to glow with the waving innate luminosity of some monstrous mythological fish. The only break in this peculiar floor design was what appeared to be a large black hole in the center of the central hall, the Opiolatry being encased by a ring of seven outer halls of varying geometries with the inner nave of the place, the largest and most spherical of all the halls, being the central one. This large hole was likewise surrounded on all sides by an ornate and engraven golden railing, yet this railing also had a gate large enough to allow entry and passage by a single man. And oddly enough, it seemed to me, that gate had been left entirely open.
Curious at this odd turn and happy for a new point of focus for my confused senses I walked to the railing and stood at the gateway peering into the hole beneath. It was still utterly dark for the most part, and cold, and smelled dank and moist, yet it seemed at regular intervals to softly breathe as if almost alive. Instantly it sprang to my intuitive imagination that I stood upon the lip of some occultic oracular pit, such as the one in which the mistress of Delphi choked upon, while noxious gases emanated continuously from the crack of some dark and toxic underworld into her eager nostrils to fire her own omened visions and dreams.
The moon had just begun to creep above the glassy central dome to slightly illuminate the pit below me. As a result a quickening beam of light began to move swiftly across the bottom of the pit as if a searchlight seeking a fleeing villain. And then I heard s slight flutter behind me and out of instinct rather than reason I dropped to my sinister knee and rolled to one side. I then felt a rush of air, then heard a brief but earnest shout, and finally a short scream followed by a sickening thud. Realizing what had happened I moved back to the gateway and peered down again into the pit. There lay Joseph Halloway, self-proclaimed esquire and supposed agent of the crown, the man I had come to meet, partially but quite effectively broken upon the marble floor beneath, one leg twisted backwards at an obscene and seemingly impossible angle, one elbow fractured in the most gruesome and bloodied compound manner.
I then instantly surmised that he had intended this horrific fate for me for some arcane and indecipherable reason and thought to ask him why he had made such a malign attempt before rendering him what aid I might. Yet before I could even speak I suddenly saw something monstrous and malevolent slither from one corner of the pit now that the moon illuminated much of the chamber in a faint argent glow…
#shortstory #horror #pennydreadful #mystery #extract
EXPLANATORY NOTES: I wrote this as part of a short story contest. I’m glad I did as this prompted me to write the first short story I’ve written in weeks. I’ve just been involved in so many other things, investment, invention, etc. that I’ve had no time to write. Anyway he contest concerned writing a flash fiction piece, and to be honest, I sat down and earnestly began to labor towards that intent.
Not long into the story however I realized I could not fulfill those (contest) requirements. The story had already become far too large for flash fiction and, indeed, may yet grow. This is, after all, but the once edited first draft. I was however told I would have probably won the contest except I exceeded the requirements in length.
It is based upon an idea I have had percolating in the back of my mind for several weeks now, maybe months. Combined with an homage piece I have meant to write for some time now as well.
This story is also a period piece, think, if you know them, of tales along the lines of a Penny Dreadful. For that is my exact intent in the execution.
A Penny Dreadful, combined with a retelling of an old Conan story, combined with a revising of the myth of Laocoön and the fate of his sons.
You may consider it a horror story, if you wish, and it might be, or as a period piece, it is, or a mixed genre piece. I consider it more a brief mediation upon the nature of human evil. Mixed with natural and even preternatural evil.
There is also a small bit of alchemical imagery included therein but that is mostly by happenstance. It was not my intent; I only noticed it in the re-reading and editing of it.
Finally I should say that the term Ophiolatry is an antique term for the pagan worship of snakes, however I transformed the word into a noun to stand for a Museum of the Serpent. Then used it in a second sense, as a verb to describe how when a man plans secret evil against another he actually ends up assuring that same evil will consume him.
Anyway I hope you like it.
If you did and wish to comment then let me know what you thought of the story and how you gauge the quality of the language I employed. Again I meant it as a 19th century period piece and as a sort of modern rewriting of the Penny Dreadful.
As I said… enjoy.
And goodnight folks.
Wyrdwend 