Delusions

Others Stories | Aug 18, 2011 | 12 min read
60 Votes, average: 4 out of 5
Others Stories

Delusions

thefantasiesblog
Follow

+++Transcription of a medical recording made by the late Dr. Andrea Evans, 8/17/1984, of the late Dr. Theodore Wilmarth, lately resident at Arkham Asylum+++



background noise


Voice of Dr. Evans: "The seventeenth of August, nineteen-eighty-four. Medical interview with Dr. Theodore Wilmarth, Professor of Psychology at Miskatonic University. Attempting to ascertain the originating cause of the delusions afflicting Dr. Wilmarth."


Voice of Dr. Wilmarth: "I am not delusional!"


Dr. Evans: "Dr. Wilmarth. You claim to be afflicted with delusions - "


Dr. Wilmarth: "On the contrary, it is you who insist that I am delusional. I am quite sane. I wish it were otherwise, but it is not so."


Dr. Evans: "You are perfectly sane, Dr. Wilmarth. In fact, you're lucky to be merely confined to an asylum, considering the magnitude of the charges levelled at you. I insist, I am on your side in this - "


Dr. Wilmarth: "I consider that doubtful."


Dr. Evans: " - but it seems that you have been afflicted with delusions brought on by stress. Do you deny that you have been under stress, Dr. Wilmarth?"


pause


Dr. Wilmarth: "No."


Dr. Evans: "And that is why you decided to go on holiday. Take a break, to use a colloquialism."


Dr. Wilmarth: "Yes."


Dr. Evans: "Tell me about it."


Dr. Wilmarth: "What can I tell you that I haven't told you already, again and again?"


Dr. Evans: "Tell it as you experienced it, from start to finish."


Dr. Wilmarth: "Very well, if it brings with it the chance of a minimalisation, however negligible, of the time I spend in this hole."


pause


Dr. Wilmarth: "I had – admittedly – been under a lot of stress. My mother's illness, the Innsmouth business – that crime in Innsmouth, where the two men killed the little girl. The Innsmouth business especially."


Dr. Evans: "You're referring to the crime perpetrated by Andrew Oldman and Thomas Marsh: two confirmed delusional madmen. They claimed the child they killed, Jenny Bridges, was a necessary sacrifice to some dark gods."


Dr. Wilmarth: "The Deep Ones. They are the Deep Ones."


pause


Dr. Wilmarth: "Those two... lunatics... they were taken to Arkham. I was given the job of making a psychological evaluation of them. They were brought into my office early on the morning of the twenty-eighth of July. Two uglier men I never have seen, fish-lips and bulging eyes and grey, flaccid skin. It was almost enough to make you believe the stories of the Innsmouth look. The details were sickening enough: they took the little girl out to Devil's Reef – which is near the Innsmouth coast – and... well, they never found all of her."


Dr. Evans: "A crime to sicken the most hard-hearted man."


Dr. Wilmarth: "That was the strange thing. I interviewed Oldman and Marsh separately, of course – but neither of them struck me as evil men. They were visibly sickened by what they had done, seemed remorseful – but they truly believed it was necessary. What superstition! What ignorance, in this age of enlightenment! That's what I thought. Have you any idea, Dr. Evans, of how humbling it is to be revealed as the ignorant one? How terrifying?"


Dr. Evans: "Please continue with your story."


Dr. Wilmarth: "I decided I needed a holiday. My wife, Sive, she's Irish, and my own mother was Irish. My father was half-Irish too, and it had been a while since we'd been to the old country. It was just what I needed, a nice relaxing country holiday. So I booked a bed-and-breakfast for two weeks on a small island, just off Malin Head, in Ulster."


Dr. Evans: "In the United Kingdom."


Dr. Wilmarth: "Just about. We left three weeks ago. Jesus, I was so looking forward to the bracing sea air and the Irish hospitality and... Jesus Christ, how wrong was I?"


pause


Dr. Evans: "Please continue, Dr. Wilmarth."


Dr. Wilmarth: "We landed at Belfast Airport, got a train to Letterkenny and took a boat the rest of the way. Nothing on the island but a few houses, a pub, a castle, and a church, and even the church was falling down. That should have been my first clue..."


Dr. Evans: "I was under the impression, Dr. Wilmarth, that the Irish of Ulster are very – tribal about their religion."


Dr. Wilmarth: "They are, they are – and this was a Gaelic region. You know what a Gael is?"


Dr. Evans: "No."


Dr. Wilmarth: "One of the old Irish, the Celtic Irish that came to Ireland a thousand years before Christ in their chariots. You can tell them by their O' and Mc surnames. Usually, they're Catholic."


Dr. Evans: "But you said the church was ruined."


Dr. Wilmarth: "Ha! You're a smart girl, Dr. Evans. Just so, these Gaels had let their church fall into ruin. But why? My first clue came when the man in the boat came to pick us up from Letterkenny."


Dr. Evans: "Go on."


Dr. Wilmarth: "The resemblance was amazing – incredible. At first, I thought it was Thomas Marsh, and greeted him as Thomas Marsh. But he wasn't. He was an Ultonian, an Ulsterman, whose family had lived in the area for generations. No connection at all to Innsmouth, or to Marsh. But, by Jove, he had the Innsmouth look. He introduced himself to us as Donnchadadh O'Maelmórdha, the king of the island."


Dr. Evans: "King?"


Dr. Wilmarth: "Some places, it takes a lot to change them. Druckellaun Island is one of those places. O'Maelmórdha took us out to the island – a good hour and a half's journey – on a clapped-out wooden motorboat, at least twenty years old. I swear to God, a storm threatened all the way, but when I suggested it might hit and drown us, O'Maelmórdha just laughed and said the sea held no fear for him. The rain began sheeting down just as we stepped onto Druckellaun Island.


"O'Maelmórdha's English was very bad and thick with an unintelligible Ulster accent – they still spoke Irish on Druckellaun; the English influence hadn't been felt there since the seventeenth century, for whatever reason. He explained to us though, as we dragged ourselves up a rocky, hedge-lined path, splashed by the pouring rain, that he had come to greet us in person because we were the only real visitors the island had had in the last thirty years. I should have taken the hint, but I knew everything, I was so logical. I hadn't seen the dark corners of the earth, even though I was in one.


"I could see the village – a handful of stars, blurred out by the rain, strung along the top of the cliff. Above it loomed the castle – a more ominous place I could not show you. Only one tower was left, the other walls tumbled, and it jutted up into the cloudy sky like an outstretched hand, begging for some divine mercy. Of course, it excited my attention. I asked O'Maelmórdha about it.


"Hartlocke's Castle, he said it was called. Apparently, when Oliver Cromwell invaded Ireland in 1649, he sent a force under Lieutenant Harold Hartlocke to capture Druckellaun and keep the sea routes to Derry open. He found a nearly-empty island, almost untouched since the Stone Age, with only a few Catholic Gaels farming the west coast and fishing. Hartlocke established the New Model Army on Druckellaun and began construction of Hartlocke's Castle, indenturing the locals into building it. But it was never finished: the locals rose up and slaughtered Hartlocke and his men. But how could a few primitive farmers defeat the most advanced army of the day, I asked? They had help, O'Maelmórdha set, and said nothing more about it.


"Eventually, we reached the village – we saw the men hauling in huge catches of fish, even in the storm. Sive and I were muddy and weary by now, but I still wondered about them fishing in the storm? O'Maelmórdha laughed again – he had an awful laugh, dry and cackling. He said the men and women of Druckellaun have nothing to fear from the sea.


"The whole place stank of fish. The houses were old, boarded-up cottages, the thatch on their roofs almost invariably rotting. Frogs and slugs crowded the grass between cottages; the streets were just mud. I found it inconceivable two thousand people lived on this dump of an island, and even more inconceivable that no dogs or cats did. In fact, aside from the slugs, frogs and fish, animals seemed to avoid the settlement – but the slugs and frogs and fish came to it in droves.


"And the people! There were normal-looking ones, though few enough; they looked like they'd rather be dead. I understand why, now. Most of them, though – far more than in Innsmouth, even before the police practically destroyed the town in 1932 – had bulging eyes, grey skin, slightly webbed hands... in a word, the Innsmouth look.


"We were taken to our bed-and-breakfast, only a little better than the average run of dwelling. It was from there I first saw the church, through the rain and mist. No houses were near it; it was just a dark silhouette in the blowing rain, but even I could see its steeple was broken. O'Maelmórdha had left us by now; I asked the landlady instead about the church. A fat, disgusting creature, stinking of fish and looking like one, she was. "No priest." she croaked, in bad English, but surely a town of two thousand Irish must be able to dredge up a priest from somewhere.


"The strangest thing was that night, when I went to the pub. You remember I mentioned a pub...? 'Hartlocke's Demise', it was called, a square stony place like two cottages stuck together. At eleven p.m., it was empty. What Irish pub is empty at eleven? There was something very badly wrong on Druckellaun. Where were all the men who should be at the pub?"


pause


Dr. Evans: "Go on."


Dr. Wilmarth: "But the worst of it wasn't until the following Sunday. I'm Catholic, and devout enough too – or I was; my faith is mostly gone, now. Sive and I went in search of the ten o'clock mass – like I said, a town of two thousand must be able to dredge some kind of priest up. Nobody would tell me, so in the end I had to ask O'Maelmórdha. He said to us, 'We'll have a service at ten o'clock tonight, if you want to turn up'. For once, I thought nothing of it. Nothing had happened to us in our time on the island, despite the strangeness, despite all the fish being caught, despite all the slugs and frogs, despite the strange jewellery the islanders wore, despite the lack of cats and dogs. I was being paranoid, I told myself.


"I... I... I'd like to stop there, if I could, Dr. Evans. This is really... really traumatic for me..."


Dr. Evans: "That was the night your wife died, Dr. Wilmarth, and you are accused of her murder. If you are to have any hope of defending yourself from these allegations, you must tell me what you saw... without the delusions."


pause


Dr. Wilmarth: "All – all right. We – em, we turned up at the church. At ten. Sive and I. All the islanders were there, in all their hideous fishy glory, gathered around the ruined church. They shoved us to the front – literally shoved. O'Maelmórdha was there, at the altar, smiling thinly.


'Dr. Wilmarth,' he said. I'll never forget what he said. 'Dr. Wilmarth, welcome to our service. We have decided to extend to you the option to join our faith.'


'I thought this was a Catholic ceremony,' I said, like a fool. He laughed, that bloody dry cackle of his.


'No, this is where we talk to the true gods, they who saved us from the Sassenach's lash, the gods we have followed for four hundred years and who have kept us safe from the thieving English. For when Harold Hartlocke invaded Druckellaun with his New Model Army and his false religion and disgusting language, there seemed no way to save the true Gaelic culture of Druckellaun. From the sea we came, a thousand years before Christ, to Ireland; and to the sea our forefathers turned. In the minutes cruel Hartlocke's men allowed us between shifts, we prayed to Jesus and to the sea. It was the sea that listened. One night in 1649, the Deep Ones themselves came out of the sea from Ahu-Y'hloa to claim Harold Hartlocke's life. Not his guns, his men nor his cruelty could save him. The Deep Ones took him and his men to be their slaves, as we were theirs. I imagine they are still down there, begging their false Protestant God for forgiveness. The magic of the Deep Ones knows few limits.


'For four hundred years, the people of Druckellaun have paid homage to the Deep Ones in blood. Few places have been as blessed with their favour as Druckellaun has. They come from Ahu-Y'hloa periodically to claim their tithe – and, as it so happened, when you arrived, one was here.'


"I don't know what I saw when he gestured for... it... to come forward. He said the word – Jesus Christ, the word! And what I saw... I think – I know it wasn't a delusion yet I still hope it was, for if it wasn't, there is no hope left for mankind. It was loosely man-shaped, two legs, two arms, a head – but it was no man. I tell you, the creature from Ahu-Y'hloa was no man. But that's what makes the sacrifice so horrible, Dr. Evans. I told you, the people of Druckellaun paid the Deep Ones in blood – yes, in the conventional sense, they sacrificed people to these fish-monsters, gave them lives – but they gave the Deep Ones their blood in another sense. They..."


pause


"...they... called the fish-monsters, the Deep Ones, up from Ahu-Y'hloa, their city off Cornwall, and took them into their homes – married them – had children with them! The Innsmouth look was really the result of humans interbreeding with Deep Ones!!"


Dr. Evans: "A horrific story, Dr. Wilmarth, if true."


Dr. Wilmarth: "It's not the worst. Jesus, Lord, Saviour, protect me, but it's not the worst. They started chanting – the word, God, the word! It burns my mind! And the creature, the creature from Ahu-Y'hloa – it talked to me. It was here when I landed. It saw an opportunity. She saw an opportunity! I could live forever, I was told – if I just would give up my Sive to be sacrificed and marry this vile creature!


"Naturally I refused. I was – mad, by then... thoroughly mad. A logical mind can take only so much strain. I fled. Sive followed, my dear sweet Sive, she followed after but the creatures, the half-human bastards we had been living with, they grabbed me. I fought free – I was only thinking of myself, I had to get out of here, away from this damned nightmare of an island. I ran all the way to the coast, hopped into the battered motor when I realised my darling Sive wasn't with me.


"Don't tell me how they found her. I know she's dead. That's enough..."


sobbing, presumed to be Dr. Wilmarth


Dr. Evans: "Dr. Wilmarth, I believe I may have found the key to your delusions. When this creature was summoned, this man, O'Maelmórdha, said a word. This word is the key to your fear, Dr. Wilmarth, the key to dispelling your delusions. What word is it?"


Dr. Wilmarth: "No! I won't say it! I won't draw their gaze!"


Dr. Evans: "Say the word, Dr. Wilmarth, for your own sake."


Dr. Wilmarth: "No – no, I can't! They'll find me!"


Dr. Evans: "Say the word, Wilmarth!"


Dr. Wilmarth: "No!"


Dr. Evans: "It's for your own good - "


Dr. Wilmarth: "No, no no no no it isn't they'll find me, God don't you realise what I saw, the nightmares I saw on that island..."


Dr. Evans: "Say the word, Dr. Wilmarth! Say it now!"


Dr. Wilmarth: "No!"


Dr. Evans: "Say it!"


Dr. Wilmarth: "NO!"


Dr. Evans: "SAY IT!"


Dr. Wilmarth: "Fine – be it on your head, Dr. Evans, what you release into this world - "


Dr. Evans: "Say it!"


static


voice of Dr. Wilmarth, unintelligible


unidentified sound (roar?)


Dr. Evans: "Oh – oh my God..."


Dr. Wilmarth: "I told you! I told you, Dr. Evans!"


Dr. Evans: "Get – get away from me! Get it away from me!"


Dr. Wilmarth: "I told you, Dr. Evans, and you didn't listen! I said the word!"


unidentified sound


voice of Dr. Evans, screaming. Cuts off abruptly


unidentified sound (splashing? tearing?)


Dr. Wilmarth: "I told you, Dr. Evans! I told you, Dr. Evans!"


no answer from Dr. Evans


unidentified sound


Dr. Wilmarth: "No – no, spare me! Spare me, please, she can be your sacrifice, I'll – I'll do anything... I'll marry you, like you wanted on the island – I'm sorry about the island – no, please!"


voice of Dr. Wilmarth, screaming


unidentified sound (roar?)


unidentified sound (splashing? tearing?)


+++end of recording+++

Tags:

  
Report This Story 
Notice (8): Undefined index: User [APP/View/stories/story.ctp, line 227]
Notice (8): Trying to access array offset on value of type null [APP/View/stories/story.ctp, line 227]

Recommendations

Recommendations

Reviews

Diana Jan 24, 2012

I like the writing style. It's different to see something written as a transcript rather than a traditional narrative. Nice work.

Geeta Aug 25, 2011

really nice...

Soniya Aug 20, 2011

really cool... love your stuff...

Jagrit Aug 20, 2011

hey.. thats really a nice story... it seems as if your style of writing has improved much in ur second story...

Doug Lamoreux Aug 20, 2011

Lovecraft and Derleth would both be pleased.

Ruhi Aug 20, 2011

wow... got scared... nice1

Thefantasiesblog Aug 18, 2011

It don'treally know why I ended it like that. I suppose Dr. Wilmarth's mind finally snapped...

Chanchal Aug 18, 2011

thats a good one but wow! the ending surprised me....:)

Amit Aug 18, 2011

I like the story... :)

Download the Short Story Lovers App

Read and write stories anytime, anywhere with the Short Story Lovers app

"Short n Scary Stories"

is a throng of rare and

true horror stories of witches, zombies, monsters and unidentified spirits

around us. Here you can share your paranormal experiences and read world's best haunted stories to thrill your imagination.

BE A SHARER
STORIES
WHAT'S NEW
MORE INFO