The Truth About Temple Bishop

by Drew "Dagon's Daughter" Dahmer

“Whatcha lookin’ at, freak?” The older, more muscular boy in a sports jersey taunted a slender, vulnerable looking kid sitting by himself under a willow tree on school grounds. The boy, who was a senior, (the same as Mook and Taylor) at Kingsport high, didn’t look a day older than 17. He had been reading a book until the larger jock had slapped it out of his hands. Taylor, who was unfortunately the Quarterback on the bully’s team, hated shit like this. He was a jock himself, but he had never mistreated anyone. With a sigh of resignation, he ran a hand through his ear-length blonde hair, and started over to call off the no-neck.

“Bet you think I’m hot, dontcha, fag?” With this, the bully slapped the younger boy upside the head with one meaty palm. The dark haired boy’s head reeled back, jawlength tousled hair falling back as if in slow motion. His hand went up to his cheek, now stained a blotchy red. Other than this, the kid made no movement or attempt to fight back.

“STOP IT Mook.”, Taylor stepped between the meathead and the boy. The thin youth turned curious grey eyes toward him, yet still did not move or run away, despite this obvious out. He stayed calmly seated and simply watched the conversation take place.

“Fuck you, Taylor, this little faggot’s been eyein’ me all day. Ain’t that Right, queer?” The grey eyes never showed a flicker of anger or fear, only a passive observation of what was unfolding.

Taylor found it unnerving. Still, the kid didn’t deserve to get beat up for being weird. "Come on man, he’s not worth getting suspended right before the big game.” Taylor thought he’d appeal to the only thing Mook held worthwhile, that being sports, or rather being denied the chance to play them.

A look of realization slowly formed along the pronounced brow ridge of the rather unevolved looking linebacker. “Okay man, you’re right.” He shot an accusing finger over Taylor’s left shoulder, “And YOU, I’ll see you later.”

Taylor chanced a glance over his shoulder and saw the boy stare back in the same placid fashion, directly meeting Mook’s eyes, then he nodded slowly. The big dumb jock turned around and walked away. Taylor turned to the boy, who was now staring off into space. “Hey, my name’s Taylor.” He extended his right hand in a friendly gesture, but instead of shaking it, the boy looked slowly at Taylor’s hand, then up to his face. For some reason, the image of an insect under a microscope flashed in Taylor’s mind, and he broke off his gaze uncomfortably. He was not used to such open scrutiny. He looked at what the kid was holding.

“What are you reading?” Taylor gestured to the leather bound black volume the boy held clutched to his chest with both arms. He must have picked it up during the scuffle. He seemed to be trying to hide what the book was, and was succeeding. The book almost disappeared among the black hooded sweatshirt (At least 2 sizes too large) and faded black jeans that the kid wore. The boy nervously tucked a lock of black hair out of his eyes and behind his ear. He did not, however, reply to the question. Taylor had a sudden thought.

"Oh! You aren’t...” He struggled for a better word...Nope. Not one came to mind. “Retarded, are you?”

The boy’s eyes snapped up and locked on his, as if affronted. “No... I don’t think so...” he paused, and seemed to actually contemplate the question. “No.” He settled on this last as though assuring not only his guest, but himself.

What an odd guy. Thought Taylor. Still, he probably wasn’t used to talking to too many people, so he tried again. “O.k., well, do you have a name then?” Taylor asked uncomfortably.

“Temple” Came the instant reply.

“...What?” Another pregnant pause. “Do you need to find a temple?? Are you Jewish or something?” It was apparent that Taylor still thought the boy might be a little slow.

“No...Temple’s my name.” The boy said slowly, as if to force comprehension.

Taylor thought on this, and then rolled his eyes. “Oh. No, I meant your FIRST name.”

The kid raised his left eyebrow and replied in the same patronizing tone the jock was using on him. “Temple IS my FIRST name.” Taylor blinked. Temple picked his backpack off of the ground beside him and stood up. “Look, this has all been real ‘Abbot and Costello”, you know, entertaining at first, but now it’s getting kinda old. Thanks for being my knight in shining letter jacket and all that, but I’ve got to go.” With a surprised smile, Taylor watched the enigmatic boy in black walk away, presumably to his next class, and decided he liked that kid. More than any he’d met so far, in fact.

The next day, Taylor saw Temple sitting by himself in a rather dark corner of the cafeteria, all by himself, as usual. He decided to at least make the effort to get to know him, and sat down in front of him. Temple looked up, completely taken by surprise. No one EVER tried to sit with him at lunch, he was a well known loner.

“Hey.” Taylor said in an unconcerned way and took a bite out of the thing that passed for a hamburger in school food terms.

“Uh, hello.” Temple replied.

Taylor knew he’d have to be a bit pushy here. “So, I’ve decided you’re worth knowing, and I hope you’ll make the same conclusion about me, but until then, I’m going to sit here and try to get to know you.” He stated simply.

Temple blinked rapidly about five times, cocking his head to the right side before saying, “O...kay...if you feel you must.” Taylor grinned. He was in, he could tell.

Temple looked at Taylor’s lanky form and had to ask, since they were both being brutally honest: “How did you come to be on the football team?”

Taylor didn’t expect the question. “Huh? What do you mean?”

Temple gestured over to the jocks’ regular table, where Mook and the other minions sat, giving the two of them death looks from across the room. “You don’t look like them. I mean, you’re not a big brainless bundle of muscle who crushes beer cans on your head, attends pep rallies, etceteras.”

Taylor glanced over and waved at the football players with a huge fake grin on his face. The team turned their backs to him and he turned back to Temple, the smile already gone. “Ugh, no, can’t say as I am. I used to be on the track team, I’m a runner by nature. then last year when the school lost funding, they cut the track team, and my father encouraged me to join football, so I could ‘meet new people’.” He actually made the quotation marks in the air with his index and middle fingers hooked in the air on both hands.

Temple shook his head, chuckling. He raised his own hands in the air, making the quotation motion. “That’s ‘pathetic’, man.”

Temple smiled up at him to show he didn’t mean any harm, and Taylor finished. “They’re o.k. guys, they’re just not great with...conversation.”

Temple’s eyebrows raised though his head stayed down. “Or intelligence, or anything requiring coherent thought, or...”

Taylor smiled “O.k, O.k., so I haven’t made the best life choices, but what about you?”

Temple looked him in the eye, and Taylor was a little surprised to find them guileless. He’d been fairly sarcastic so far. “What about me?” Temple replied. He seemed to be waiting for the other shoe to drop, and Taylor realized he probably thought that this was some kind of jock setup.

“Nobody can stay completely on their own, man. You’ll go nuts.” Taylor told him in a soft tone. Temple nodded sadly. “Anyway, what’re you up to after school?” Taylor asked the still wary boy, he gestured toward the jocks getting up, clearly angry at this new alliance and storming out of the cafeteria. “’Cuz it looks like I’m free!” Taylor finished with a smile.

Temple smiled too, and decided right then and there to let mr. all-american into his life. Where’s the harm? He thought. He had no idea how close they would become.

After that day, the two became fast friends. Nigh inseparable. Though, oddly, Taylor never saw Temple befriend anyone else. Nor did he seem to have any desire to do so. At lunch, he either sat alone or with Taylor, and seemed perfectly content to do either. He always had his nose in some musty old book, and only looked up or put them away when Taylor was nearby. Temple never discussed what he’d read with Taylor, and the blonde boy never thought to ask.

On one such occasion, Temple was sitting under the same aqua colored weeping willow tree where he’d been sitting the day Taylor had met him. He was hunched over a dark blue leather bound book, his long black hair curtaining his face from view, and he seemed to be intensely studying the pages, instead of simply reading them. He was wearing his usual huge black sweatshirt, even though it wasn’t cold outside. Taylor tapped him lightly on the shoulder, and Temple jumped a foot, dropping the book onto the ground in the process. “Sorry!” Taylor said in alarm, reaching to pick up the book.

“NO! Don’t!” Temple snatched the book out of Taylor’s hands, and glared at him warily. The skinny boy had never acted this way toward Taylor before, and the taller boy was taken aback.

“Whoa! I’m sorry man!” He threw his hands up in surrender.

Temple’s steel grey eyes softened. “No. I’m sorry. I’m just kinda on edge today.”

Taylor’s sky-blue eyes gazed on his friend with concern., “What’s up? Mook fucking with you again?”

Temple sighed deeply and leaned back against the tree. “Him too, yeah.” He closed his eyes. It didn’t look like he was going to elaborate.

Taylor could not imagine what all the other students had against this kid. He was pretty cool once you got to know him, if he let you get to know him. He decided to ask him to shed some light on the subject.

“What does Mook, and everyone else for that matter, have against you, anyway?”

Temple’s eyes opened and he gave the other boy an appraising look. “You really want to know?”

Ah, thought the quarterback. So there was more to it. “Yeah. I mean , if you want to tell me.”

Temple nodded curtly, then took another deep breath. “Well, I’m pretty sure it has something to do with my hometown. I was born in Dunwich.” Taylor inadvertently let out a gasp. Everyone in Kingsport had heard of the town. It was supposed to be cursed. Taylor himself had heard numerous horror stories about it: ghosts, witches, incest, ancient curses. Could any of that be true? Temple chuckled bitterly at his friend’s wide eyes. “I see you’ve heard of it.”

Taylor nodded before replying. “Yes. I mean...well, Everyone’s heard of it.”

Temple looked at his feet. “Yeah well, hence the problem.” He gestured with widespread thin arms and open palms at the crowd of students before them.

Taylor noticed for the first time that some, most in fact, were giving them strange looks, varying from fearful to angry. “That stuff is urban legend though, right? I mean, it’s not TRUE, is it?” Taylor couldn’t believe he’d just asked that.

“Some of it is true.” Temple replied cryptically.

Before he could stop himself, Taylor blurted out: “But you don’t look inbred.”

Temple’s eyes widened to a comic level out of shock. Then they both erupted into fits of laughter. Temple had to catch his breath and wipe a tear from his eye before replying. “That’s good, ‘cuz I’m not.” Smiling, he continued. “I’ve heard those rumors of inbreeding too, and it is true in some cases, a lot like the Amish, trying to keep the bloodlines pure and all that.” He noticed Taylor’s raised eyebrows, and made a gesture with his left hand as if he were waving away a fly. “Not mine though. My father was from Dunwich, but my mother was from Innsmouth originally.” Taylor shook his head and grinned. “I gotta tell you, that doesn’t help your case much.” The rumors about Innsmouth were in some cases even worse than the ones about Dunwich. Evil fish people stalking tourists and raising gold from the sea. Weird stuff.

His friend forced a sad smile and looked up into the branches of the tree, which seemed to be melting down onto their heads. “Tell me about it. Anyway, because of all that, I’ve kind of been an outcast since birth. Even back in Dunwich.”

Taylor felt bad for him. It must be hard to be glared at and whispered about everywhere you go. As Temple sat up, Taylor put his right arm around his shoulders. “You know I’m here for you, right?”

Temple shrugged off his arm and pushed him backward lightly. “Look bro, you’re not getting my Bud Light.” Taylor laughed, and as the bell rang, both boys eased themselves up and sauntered off to class. Again, never having mentioned the book. It seemed to slip Taylor’s mind like sand through fingers EVERY time.

On the day of the Homecoming dance, both boys were talking in the hall. Taylor had decided not to go, and the same went for Temple, but for different reasons. Instead, they had decided to hang out together at Temple’s place, which Taylor had never been to, and watch old horror films or something. Right now they were both trying to justify their choice aloud. “I just hate those kinds of scenes, ya know? Everything is so fake.” Taylor was listing his reasons for avoiding the function.

Temple nodded in agreement. “Yep. From the cardboard stars to all the damn glitter everywhere.. Where do they find that much fuckin’ glitter anyway???”

Taylor chuckled. “No idea man, but anyway, when Sheila invited me...” Here he stopped abruptly, realizing that Temple probably hadn’t been asked at all. Temple looked over to see why he’d stopped mid-sentence, and when he saw the look on the jock’s face, he narrowed his eyes and gave an evil smirk. “Oh don’t you DARE feel sorry for me! I got THREE offers, for your information.”

Taylor feigned empathy. “Imaginary friends, huh?”

Temple giggled, his particular brand of high pitched evil laughter. “Nope. Haven’t you heard? Chicks dig pale scrawny guys.” As he finished this statement, they passed a very attractive olive-skinned girl with long dark hair at her locker. When she saw Temple, she waved shyly at him. He waved back, giving her a warm smile, but did not go over to talk with her. He turned, a big toothy grin on his face, and pointed with his thumb at the receding image of the girl. “That,” he whispered. “Would be one of my ‘imaginary friends’.”

Taylor slapped him lightly on the back of the head. “You had a chance to have HER and you’re staying at home?” Temple nodded, Taylor made a low whistle through his teeth. “She doesn’t even look pissed! Sheila’s about to rip my head off, and I said no in the nicest way I could think of. What did you say?”

Temple shrugged, appearing completely sincere. “I just said that I was flattered to be invited anywhere by a girl as lovely as her, but I had this phobia about being in enclosed spaces surrounded by large amounts of people who hate me.”

Taylor slapped his forehead. “DAMN. I shoulda thought of that.” He replied in a mocking tone.

When they met outside the school’s back door to walk to Temple’s house, the sun had already gone down. Taylor found himself a bit uneasy. He couldn’t put his finger on why, he just had a very generalized nervous feeling. He followed behind Temple with myriad questions running through his brain. What were Temple’s parents like? What subjects should he avoid talking about? How should he act? All of these fears were wiped away when, as if hearing the questions spoken aloud, Temple said: “Don’t worry, my parents aren’t home. We’ll have the run of the place.” Still the tense feeling in Taylor’s stomach did not abate. What was wrong with him? They were going over to his friend’s house to drink, eat pizza, and watch movies. What was there to be nervous about? Nothing. He told himself firmly. He was just weirded out ‘cuz he’d never been there before. That was all. Nothing else.

The air was crisp in the cool October evening. The boys could see their breath when they exhaled, and the cold drew the blood to their cheeks to give them a healthy rose hue. (Probably the only color that ever appeared on Temple’s face.) Taylor thought. The smell of fireplaces burning oak and cedar logs was all around them, as was the smell of apples in the trees and freshly baked pumpkin pie, rich with clove and cinnamon. The night air held a hint of promise, and something else, something as enigmatic and intangible as Temple Bishop himself.

When they got to Temple’s house, Taylor was surprised at it’s size and condition. From Temple’s faded and sometimes downright threadbare clothing, along with his apparent total lack of new possessions, (Aside from the books that were his constant companions, which the blonde athlete had always assumed were borrowed from a library.) Taylor had thought Temple poor, or at least worse off than himself. But this house was...A Mansion! A victorian behemoth with likely enough space for 3 large families. As he stood gawking at it, Temple chuckled. “Maybe the Bishops got ahold of some of that Whateley gold, eh?” More of that high-pitched giggling that set Taylor’s teeth on edge, and the jock thought the reference might have held meaning to Temple, but he had no idea what his friend was talking about. No one in Dunwich was rich, were they?

After fumbling with a very odd-looking key for a minute, then throwing wide the front door, Temple invited Taylor into his lair...HOME. Why had he thought of the word “lair”? Temple shut the door behind him once his friend had made the journey into the living room, and locked the door’s dead bolt. A perfectly normal gesture to make, yet it gave Taylor the odd sensation of being trapped.

Temple went about the business of turning on the lights and lighting a fire while Taylor stretched out on the couch. Placing his knit hat and scarf on the ebony coffee table before him, he noticed that Temple wasn’t much of a housekeeper. There seemed to be a thin layer of dust and old cobwebs on most everything. He thought it odd that with a house like this, the family didn’t employ a maid.

He was also struck by the fact that there were no family photos up anywhere. Temple was a good looking guy, so he assumed his parents weren’t mutants, so where were all the photographs?

Temple disappeared into another room, then called out a moment later, “Did you have your heart set on pizza? ‘Cuz we’ve got some steaks in here if you’re interested.”

Taylor laughed as if this was a ridiculous idea. “Who would cook them?”

Temple stuck his head out of the doorway, signature smirk in place, “I will, meathead. Who do you think? So, you want one?”

Taylor nodded in surprise. “Sure! I’ll take one.”

Temple disappeared again, then reappeared a moment later. “How do you want yours?”

Taylor yelled back, “Burn it!”

Temple gave a small snort of derision and disappeared again, mumbling, “Fuckin’ jocks, should’ve known.” Just loud enough for Taylor to hear. It was not spoken in a serious tone. Taylor chuckled to himself and turned on the T.V. There was a game on, but somehow Taylor figured Temple wouldn’t be interested, and since the guy was cooking him dinner, it seemed rude somehow to leave it on that channel.

He called to his friend: “Anything on you wanna watch?”

A pause, and then came the reply, “Um...yeah! I think there’s a special on the History Channel tonight that I’d like to see.” Taylor grimaced. Of course. An educational program. Even when Temple didn’t have his nose in a book, he was still studying. Still, he was getting a free steak and beer out of the deal. He flipped to the appropriate channel. There was a commercial on for a few seconds about cars or some such, then the graphics for the current program appeared. “Ancient Rites” spoke the deep voice of the narrator, “Now on the History Channel.”

Hmmm. This doesn’t look too bad, Taylor thought. As the narration continued, Temple came out with an open beer that he set in front of Taylor. “To start you off.” He said with a slight smile, then went back into the kitchen to finish cooking. Taylor heard him singing softly to himself whenever there was a commercial break, proving that he was paying attention to the program. The words of the song were unrecognizable, and the bit that Taylor could make out didn’t sound like english.

The smells of cooked meat and potatoes with melted butter was getting to be almost too much to bear. He risked rudeness: “How’s it coming in there? It smells fantastic out here.” No sooner had he finished, than Temple backed out of the swinging kitchen door, a plate in each hand. He laid the well-done steak in front of Taylor, and kept the other for himself.

The steak in front of Temple looked raw. Taylor supposed he liked his rare, but the blood seeping off of the meat seemed wholly unappetizing to him. Temple walked back in and out of the kitchen, returning with four cold beers, two for each. Again, Taylor noticed his two were open, which he figured was some kind of host courtesy, and Temple was in the process of opening his own beer. He did some strange little hand gesture in the air, and started to eat. When he looked up, he noticed Taylor’s knotted eyebrows, and smiled. “Sorry, old religious habits die hard.” His off-the-cuff tone reassured Taylor, and he started to eat. He was midway through his second beer when he started to feel a little tired. He didn’t know if it was the beer, the good food, or the warm fire, but he felt completely comfortable and even a little sleepy.

“You all right Taylor?” Temple’s voice drifted to him as if from a distance. Taylor had finished his food and lain back in his chair, and somehow lost himself in the show about ancient cults and rituals.

The narrator’s deep voice lulled his brain into sleep. “Taylor?” Temple said again softly.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” The quarterback said, draining the remainder of the second beer. “Can I have another?” He said, raising his empty bottle.

“Sure.” Temple replied gently, handing him the other open beer. He did not reach for his own, however. In fact, Taylor hadn’t seen him drink much at all, (Lightweight) he thought amicably. He had finished his steak though. By the time Taylor finished his third beer, he could no longer keep his eyes open. Dimly, he could feel Temple’s hand on his shoulder, shaking him gently. He heard his voice, but could not discern whether or not it was a dream.

“Taylor? Taylor, are you awake?” As he dreamt, he mostly relived his time spent with Temple. Temple’s smile, his high pitched laugh, his intense grey eyes and consistently tousled hair. Taylor could see why the girls liked him, and why their dates didn’t. There was just something irresistible about the guy...and yet, there was something behind his gaze. Something almost...sinister. He heard his name called out. Waking him slowly from his deep slumber.

“Taylor!” A light slap to the face. “Wake the fuck up, man.” Blearily, Taylor’s blue eyes opened, but were glassed over. He could make out Temple’s silhouette looming over him. He was speaking again. “There ya go. Man, you were passed out for quite awhile!”

The last shreds of induced sleep dissolved as he realized he couldn’t move his arms or legs. He swung his head to the right and saw that his right wrist was bound to a metal ring fastened to a rock floor by a thick hempen rope. The same was true of his left wrist and ankles. Oddly, the thing that stood out most was that Taylor was nude. What the fuck was going on? Was this some sort of weird sex thing??

“Temple?” He asked fuzzily.

“Yes?” His answer was calm, almost bored.

“What the fuck man??? Is this a prank?”

Temple kneeled down next to his right side. He shook his head. “ Nope. No, I’m afraid it isn’t.” He checked the ropes that bound his friend. “You had me worried there for a moment. I thought maybe I’d given you too much.” He held up a small vial full of a bluish fluid. Taylor’s mind now put together the open beers. Laced. Grinning wolfishly, The thin boy leaned close and whispered into his ear: “You’re no good to me dead...yet, anyway.” Taylor started to hyperventilate and began to cough harshly. Temple’s expression changed suddenly and he leaned over to examine Taylor’s face closely. He balled up his left fist and put it high on his hip, cocking his elbow out, then drew his eyebrows together, and squinted, studying him. Even through his pain and fear at not being able to draw a breath, Taylor thought the posture odd. Almost comical. He picked up an inhaler from beside him and held it to Taylor’s lips. Taylor sucked the medicine into his lungs eagerly.

It took a few moments, but his breathing slowed, then returned to normal. “I didn’t think...” he took a shallow breath “that anyone knew-” Temple cut him off. “About your asthma?” He finished the jock’s sentence. “You keep a pretty good secret, I’ll give you that, but you can’t bullshit a bullshitter, now can you?” He smiled down at Taylor. “I figured it out by how many times you disappeared into the bathroom during school. I figured it was either this or coke, so I listened at the door. Once I found out, I faked my own asthma attack and got this inhaler from the nurse. Good thing she had some albuterol on hand, eh?” Taylor risked a glance around the room. It gave the impression of an ancient place of worship, though the house couldn’t have been built longer ago than the forties. (Could it? he thought.) There was an air of ancient menace all around him.

The walls were stone, not concrete, and upon their rough, sandy surfaces, there were carved monsters deeply imbedded in every wall. Masses of evil eyes, mouths, tentacles and tails. Each more terrifying than the last. Lending credence to it’s appearance as an altar, were the numerous hieroglyphics of magikal symbols painted over the surfaces, and thick black candles in a circle around the bound boy. Even though the night was cold, and any basement should be freezing, this room felt like a pit of Hell itself. Hot and cloying. Temple took a jar of ink from next to Taylor and began drawing strange symbols on Taylor’s naked flesh. He had no idea what the characters meant, but he assumed they weren’t a good thing. He tried to stall for time.

“So what? You’re going to sacrifice me for power or something?” It was the only reason he could think of for Temple to do such a thing.

Temple giggled, but did not stop making the symbols. The laugh was...different somehow to Taylor. His usual giggle took on an edge of madness. It was peculiar to Temple that the jock never could see the forest for the trees. “Oh no. Nothing quite as mundane as that. I already HAVE power.”

Taylor’s clear blue eyes filled with tears, meeting Temple’s steely gaze. “Then why?” He asked, voice cracking.” “Because to summon Yog-Sothoth, there has to be pain. Human pain. Believe me I’ve tried cats and dogs and all that stuff. None of it works. Has to be human. I’ve tried everything I can think of. I can’t risk doing the ritual to myself, because I could pass out before the rite is complete, and then where would we be?” He asked to no one in particular. He donned a thick black cloak, a ceremonial robe.

“Why couldn’t you sacrifice the girl from school? Or Mook??? Why me? What did I do?”

The barrage of questions seemed to irritate Temple. He didn’t want to explain, and still, the boy was going to die for his purposes. He supposed an explanation was the least he could do. “Look. I can’t kill the girl, because she doesn’t mean shit to me, Taylor. A sacrifice, is just that. If I used someone I don’t care about, or don’t like, it will blow up in my face. You have to give what’s dearest to you. Didn’t you ever wonder where my parents were?” His eyes glittered, as if moist with tears. “It has to be you, no one else.”

Taylor was sobbing uncontrollably now, pulling futilely on his restraints. Temple’s eyes softened then. He looked as if he honestly didn’t want to kill him at all, he just didn’t see a choice in the matter. Taylor was sure he saw something like love in his eyes. But that was unimportant. The ritual needed to be performed tonight, when the stars were in proper alignment for the working. In an effort to soothe Taylor, Temple gently brushed the tears from his friend’s eyes. “I’m sorry Taylor, I really am. But this has to be done.”

Temple closed his eyes, and started chanting in a language foreign to Taylor: “Ia, Ia, Yog-Sothoth!” The string of syllables after this ran together in the boy’s frightened mind. He couldn’t make any sense of them. After what seemed like an eternity, Temple pulled a dagger from the folds of his robe. Suddenly the chanting stopped, and Temple held the blade by both hands above his head, blade pointed downward toward Taylor’s prone body. The blade plunged, puncturing flesh. Taylor screamed as his lifeblood began pouring, almost black, from a ragged hole in his abdomen. The pain seemed to hit Temple as well as Taylor and both threw back their heads in a scream that intertwined like the howl of a demon from the darkest pits of unholy torture. Now, too late, Taylor understood. “Has to be pain. Human pain.” Temple meant his own as well as his sacrifices’.

The fear, pain, and anticipation made both boys’ heads spin. The torture seemed without end. There was nothing but the rising and falling of a flashing sliver of silver, The sound of Temple’s already hoarse voice, screaming guttural chants, blood dousing them both, and Taylor’s death rasps. The scent of blood, heavy and metallic, choked the boys and sought to bring an awakening.

Through his agony and abject terror, Taylor saw a dark shape, rising from the shadows to his left. His mind reeled and refused to piece together what was in front of him, but clearly, Temple had no such problem. He smiled sadly, as if seeing an old acquaintance. Taylor screamed, “I thought I was your friend!!!”

Temple looked down, seeming almost to decide not to go through with this after all. Taylor felt a faint flicker of hope. If he could convince Temple to stop, to take him to the hospital...there might still be time to save his life! Temple met Taylor’s eyes again, but then his face went blank, he turned toward the being rising from the darkness, and raised the dripping blade again. He gave a small shrug, closing himself off, killing any hopes that the mutilated boy still had of surviving, and revealed the words that sealed Taylor’s fate.

“Look man, you knew I was from Dunwich.”

The blade fell again and again, shredding Taylor’s sanity along with his body. His own screams became distant in his own ears, even as Temple’s smile grew, along with his madness, and the dark shadow grew more solid in the corner of the room. Like a column of straining eyes, mouths, screams, blood and pain, it rose up from the depths of the stars to grant it’s priest the boon of travel through the Empty Space.

Yog-Sothoth had arrived.

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