The Cult of Kambra By J.J.Williams (2022).
A cosmic horror written by myself in 2022:
Foreseen expectations of my current journey have taken a turn. I ventured out of my abode in the early hours of the morn, the air grey with autumnal growth and omni present dirge. The path out of the port is steep, riddled with pot holes and rampant felines of unknown origins. Straight past my place of employment at Mr. Buxley's fisheries. A place I seen many an hour investing in toil and back breaking labor. My family lay north in an obscure fishing town of Ranley, I have not spoken to my relations in time and a day. I will persist in no uncertain terms, this path is unexpected, unexplained and captivating to say the least.
Obscured by the deafening silence of the dock workers and feline opportunist's, language here in my adopted home of Riddle being of a minimal variety. Weather beaten and hardy characters toil from dust to dawn, dock workers, artisan's and other skilled/semi skilled. Communication through a mix of grunts and make shift hand gestures that served a purpose, for life is/was hard here in Riddle, movement was slow but consistent, things happened but happened at the unwritten, unspoken dictates of Riddle's resident's. I have not said who I am, my name is Albert Denholm a worker and wanderer of many a year. "Mistaar Denhulm" said a battle hardened gentlemen, "aye that is he" I replied, a steady strong hand pointed to the top of the horizon, away from the harbor, where a blanket fog lay. My stoic disposition gripped the lapel of my coat "onwards" I thought.
The sturdy purveyor of grim news had pointed me to the direction of a fog laden hill. This meant going through the main artery road of Riddle. Fisherman wives with strong hunched stature's, toiled at their domestic setting's while dogs with mange riddled coat's fought for food and attention. All while an ominous sea where fog lay permanently over the town and harbor from the darkened sea of Tannely. My leg's and head felt nauseous, I am half way up the road thankfully, the hill is in sight. "You going uphill" asked a dock hand laying a vice like hand on my shoulder and looked into my eyes and said "otherworldly things happen yonder sire, otherworldly, heed me". An Ice cold chill ran through my body "what in the world am I doing" I thought.
I clambered up the road heading out of Riddle, the perpetual creeping thought of my existential crisis lay heavy on my shoulders. The road grew ever more hostile, where once lay cobblestone, there are alien and foreign objects of an unknown origin. "Bah he thought, tis' but a figment of my mind's eye" trying to regain balance "and anyway I drinketh like a fish and eat scantly" it bore no bearing to my constitution. One feel's that imposing sense of reality that is hard and fast, which should in theory keep me going the way of a frog (or a box of frogs). "I'm outside of the town Riddle now" I thought, unkempt archaic walls in rack and ruin garnished my path. What could be best be described as cabbages in size and aesthetic where dotted in the field's yonder the wall's. A foul odor followed these visual cue's "not of this planut" I muttered. I felt cold and the hair's of my eyebrows of all things fluttered, not normal, not normal at all. These cabbage like things were a pale blue and had a metallic tint of red.
Tending to cabbages was an old wizald man and his wife. True masters of their land and the seasons there in, captured by the elements and strengthened by the great cycle. Albert nodded to the elderly couple as a form of acknowledgement, this was not reciprocated in turn back to Albert. The old man enquired abruptly to Albert "you" Albert was stopped in his tracks "meh, sire" Albert spoke, "yoooouuu, what has they doing hare" said the old man. Albert perplexed by his language and tone didn't know whether to run or to stay.
Albert came too, regaining a modicum of civility and spoke "sire, ma'am, I has businass in these parts" he went on "the grey fog here, what it" the old man raised from his stupor. For naught be told, the old man's stature raised a good eight feet in height and his sinew boney frame grew exponentially.
The mass of sinew and bone rose and rose, above and beyond anything of any conceive. Albert sat on the mud and tufted grass, next to the path and near to the old man's wall. "Yay, dockhand of Riddle, you have wondered to far" Albert got to his feet looking at the fateful beast dwarfing the cabbage field. The old man went on "HT, HOW, YA,NA,ATON,BE,NAAAAH". This queer and peculiar language in one fell swoop entranced and repulsed Albert. Albert mustered his vitals to speak in a trembling voice "sire y-y-you are not of this place, I mean Riddle, why beckon me hare" to which the beast of the old man replied "human, you know not of me, I walk many a path, many an aeon your Axiom's have naught on me". The grey fog above the cabbage field parted, a night sky with copious quantities of stars and celestial bodies filled the horizon. The beast went on "I am Kambra, the eye of hold, the binder of all time and a perpetual balance of the omni fear" Albert was muted, his sense's paralyzed.
"I Kambra, seek no mortal material gain, only the silence of a trillion voices and solace of perpetual unrest" said Kambra his figure dark as the void with shades of purple and red. In the field during the commotion, the cabbages had created an odious toxic plume of fumes, floating around Kambra like an exotic dancer in full flow. Albert watched on in horror.
The night sky danced, celestial bodies raced a plethora of color's flooded Alberts vision. "No, no I cannot see this" he thought "I dream, I dream a wild dream". Thunder and lightening raged near by. Dog's howled in the distance. Tannely's ocean had a violent reaction to Kambra's presence. "You boy, youuuu" Kambra's razor sharp index finger pointed at Albert "you, get, you, GOOOOONE" Albert yelped and leapt to his feet, Albert belted. The path back to Riddle was treacherous and unforgiving, Albert sprinted, sprinted like a prize greyhound. His wit's, nerve's and cerebral functions fired on all cylinder's. "Don't look back, don't look back on this grave injustice" he thought. It was the dead of the night at the time of Albert's tale, visibility was wanting. Albert ran and ran, his footing unsure, his sight limited.
A rock connected to Albert's lead foot, Albert felt a sudden liberation from the Earth as he glided through the air. In a moment of chaotic bliss Albert flew, he fell heavy on the partially alien cobbled path, mud everywhere. Albert blacked out, his story fell out of phase for a brief period of time.
When Albert came to, he pressed his body off the floor, drenched in mud, water, snot and blood. Albert's coat was worse for wear, as was his attire. "Poor Albert" he muttered "you idiot" he spoke further. Albert noticed the grey/blue sky "no fog" he thought "nah cabbage field 'ta" he continued. Riddle was it's murky self, nothing new their. Albert looked at the distance for the old man and his wife, naught could he see. He mused what could he see or what could he sea !!
The cult of Kambra was never spoken of in Riddle again, wary travelers be warned, be warned good.
THE CULT OF KAMBRA-FIN !!