Horror of Cresthaven Hollow
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Untold madness. I still see its eyes at night. I know that it waits for me in the
Hollow. It calls my name and whispers sweet temptations into my mind. I know it by sight.
I have seen it with my own wicked eyes. I have enticed the thing which has no name. I have
called that which should never live beyond the dreaming.
I know that there are those who still believe that I am just a man
with a twisted mind full of slobbering tales. But it is I who understand the true mystery
and horror of the Cresthaven Hollow. It is I who have seen fear like no man should ever
dare invoke.
Perhaps it is another story you seek. A retelling of the old. You
want to hear about the night which turned this hair gray and these eyes blood red. Yes,
you would. I can see that. Sit here and listen. Sit here and be very afraid.
* * * * *
The gothic novels have described such a beginning best when they spoke of "a night
unlike any other night." The most horrid movie should have been shot on that night.
Lightning sliced the air and cut shreds of the night as the darkness swallowed the faint
clouds. The moon, though not full, was in an ominous brilliance which cast a deadly shadow
across the Hollow which stood at the end of my street.
I had been told as a child that every town has its ghosts. I never
believed such nonsense. At least not until the winter of my sixteenth year. My town of all
towns was never the haunted type. Maybe, on an occasional Halloween, a scare by the
neighborhood kids—myself included—but never a real haunting. Ghosts were just a
symbol of internal fears. My father spoke of "ghosts in the machine" only to
teach lessons to my brother and I about the importance of good self-esteem. It worked, for
a while.
Late in November, long after the jack-o-lanterns were put away, my
haunting came. Call me a fool, but I found myself stricken with the same curiosity for
which I ridiculed movie characters for being so stupid. It was an insane curiosity which
invaded my mind and held all fears in suspension.
The Hollow was a small wooded area at the east end of Cresthaven.
It was a great summer hideout and as children we would play cowboys and Indians and make
tree houses within the groves. In the winter, the trees, barren of leaves and devoid of
life, began to emulate the dead. The fallen leaves covered the ground and hid it from the
light. Movement under the leaves left no doubt in our young minds that a darker evil lived
beneath them.
When that dark, stormy night came, I sat and looked out a window
and thought about the last horror movie I had seen. Yes, it did remind me of that night.
But I was a man. Sixteen, but still a man. I was too proud to admit that I was scared out
of my wits. As I sat at that window and watched the Hollow, I was reminded of the stories
of my childhood. Stories of the gray horror, stories of children torn apart beyond
recognition by something no one would name. As I recalled the tales, the chill of the
night crept under my skin and cut through my bones. The memories held my mind in the fear
which I had yet to experience.
Lost in my own mind, I was startled by a rapid movement which
appeared for only a moment just outside my window. I jumped in surprise and almost fell
out of the sill. I searched vainly through the dark between the sheets of rain that
covered the night in a sickeningly haze of gloom. Nothing, nothing but my own reflection
in the glass and my rampant imagination playing tricks on me. What else could it be? Tall
tales, dark night, a storm, and an overactive imagination.
I started back to dreaming, watching the rain and staring at the
Hollow with an empty gaze. I didn't even notice where I was looking until a flash of
lightning lit up the Hollow and gave it an eerie look of a creature waiting patiently for
its prey.
Suddenly I was intrigued by the possibilities of the mind. If the
mind could create such illusions of monsters from a grove of trees and a flash of light,
then what could it do with a conscious effort of fantasy. What could I create which would
live within the Hollow? How bad could it really be?
I ran down the stairs and pushed open the front door, letting the
rain drops mist my face. The cool feel of the water woke me up to the reality of what I
was attempting to create. I wiped the drops from my eyes and walked out onto the steps.
Closing the door behind me, I looked down the street to the Hollow. Flashes of lightening
illuminated the twisted masses of what had been beautiful trees. The wind tossed up the
fallen leaves like demon imps in an evil dance of a midnight haunting.
As I walked down the street toward the Hollow, I felt my skin
begging to stay behind as every bone in my body strained against the muscles. My mind
wrenched at the terrifying shadows which cavorted wildly towards me in shapes which defied
reason. I watched the Hollow get closer and closer. It began to take a shape like I had
never seen before.
As I reached the edge of the Hollow, I stopped and looked around.
I can admit it now. I was scared. I just didn't realize how scared. The sights and sounds
which emanated from within the Hollow left me with a sense of helplessness. I had
temporarily forgot that it was I who had come to create. I came here to scare the Hollow;
not to allow the Hollow scare me.
When I regained my courage, I took one step onto the path which
led into the Hollow. A bolt of lightning—just like that in a horror movie; streaks
crackling out in all directions—created a glow for only a moment, but just long
enough for me to imagine, of course, that the leaves and grass around my foot had crept
closer. I swallowed hard and continued into the grove.
The path was narrow, only wide enough to accommodate two of myself
shoulder to shoulder. I walked through the middle, never touching the edges. I nervously
turned my head in every direction. Every way I looked, I thought that I saw eyes glaring
back at me. Unsightly red eyes with pale yellow pupils. Of course they were only figments
of illusion, of my mind gone berserk.
In the center of the Hollow stood a stone pillar, left there by
the original settlers in the 1400’s. The dark stains covering the rock was the blood
of the settlers splashed by Indian raiders to frighten off newcomers—or so the
official story goes. Legends spoke of more grotesque tales of horror, the type of which
had brought me to this grove.
I had no idea when I began this escapade that I would lose the
courage to follow through. But even so, I found something which moved me to close my eyes
and imagine the horror scene I wanted to create. I looked within myself and found a
creature of horrible dimensions. Ape-like and malicious, holding razors for claws and
spikes for teeth. The thing, this creature of my mind, tore through the grove, ripping
into trees, shaving off the thin bark, and slicing leaves into tiny shreds of confetti.
My experiment was amazing. I heard the sounds of my creature. I
could see with my mind the fear and damage it was causing to the Hollow. The grunts of
anger and rage resounded through my mind as the poignant smell of slime filtered into my
senses and almost made me sick. It was so real.
For a moment, I believed I really succeeded in creating the
ultimate horror. I thought I conquered my fear of the Hollow. Never again would I look at
this grove as a strange place of evil, but as a lowly servant waiting to heed my
beck-and-call.
I opened my eyes in triumph...
...and recoiled at the image before me. Floating balls of light
bounced around the Hollow, floating balls of light which were not induced by the storm.
They were too big to be fireflies and their erratic behavior was confined to an area which
seemed to be a slime-covered trench of water. Then the trench moved, and I realized my
mistake. The trench was a tentacle, attached to something much larger hidden in the raging
darkness.
I frantically scanned the clearing and saw the dark creature
surrounded me except in a narrow area behind me. That was my escape slot. I was a fool,
though, I wanted to see what I was up against before I ran. The adrenaline in my body
raced every impulse to beyond comprehension. All my actions became exaggerated.
The beast moved slightly and I traced the movement back to a
source on my right. I still could not see the body or head of the creature, but I felt its
presence clearly. As I examined the tentacles which surrounded me, I looked in horror at
the slimy suction cups which were scattered on them. They were the size of twice my own
hand.
I futily tried to find the body of this creature, wanting
desperately to look at this thing face to face. Every instinct within me said to run, but
fear or stupidity, or both, held me fast. Within the shadows I saw the glow of red eyes.
They held my stare with a dead calm. Unmoving, they examined the very core of my soul.
In a flash of the storm, I finally spied my antagonist. It was an
enormous and grotesquely deformed creature with the appearance of a horrendous octopus.
One huge red eye sat in the center of its head. Around its body were scattered many other
of a smaller scale. The pale yellow pupil seemed to bleed from the center of its eye. It
contrasted severely with the gray-green skin of the beast. When the light subdued, only
the shadow of the creature remained in my vision.
The shattering fear set into my mind and a scream rang from my
mouth as I ran toward the space between the tentacles. I felt the muscles in my legs
tighten as they tried to refuse motion, but my brain reeled at the thought of the hideous
thing surrounding me. I knew at once that the legends were true. The killings six hundred
years ago were not done by Indians, but by this thing, this monster brought up from the
pits of hell. It had been waiting ever since; waiting for centuries for victims of fear
and of stupidity. It waited for the doubters and the drunks.
As I ran, the tentacles reached out for me. I felt the slime wipe
across my back as I tried to retreat into the darkness. The odor of rotting corpses waved
under my nostrils and made my stomach turn in disgust. Only my will stayed my inner
turmoil and saved my retching bowels.
The edge of the Hollow came closer as I ran harder. The tentacled
creature followed me and even the globed lights finally entered the chase. The lightning
and rain made the run for sanctuary seemingly unattainable. But still I ran.
When my left foot hit pavement, the movement behind me stopped.
Only the sound of the rain slamming into the ground beneath my feet echoed in my ears. I
remained motionless for a moment listening for any implication of pursuit.
Then the whisper came. It was soft like a mother's lullaby to her
newborn. It was a song of beauty and enticement. It came from behind me, from the Hollow.
I turned to look at the trees which sheltered the terrible secret. The grove stood like
sentries guarding the forbidden creature. The eerie whisper echoed back into my head,
calling me back into the creature's presence.
Again, I ran. I ran as fast as I could to my home. I bounded up
the steps of the porch, stopping in abject terror when I saw the smudges on door. Mud and
slime blotted the surface in little circles. The image of suction cups of that heinous
beast filled my mind with dread. How had it reached my house before me? Was it waiting
inside to tear me from limb to limb? Would it take me before I could call for help?
I bolted from the steps and raced to the back of the house. I knew
what I must do. I reached the shed which stood in the back of my yard and fumbled with the
lock. The door fell open and the darkness inside spilled forth to touch me with a
sharpness that slit my soul from here to eternity. I quickly found the light switch and
light claimed the room as its own. I tore through my gardening tools until I found the can
of gasoline which I had stored for the lawn mower. The volatile mixture of gasoline and
oil would work nicely.
I half stumbled and half ran back toward the Hollow. My horrified
mind, fervently barbarous with intent, reached out to inform the legend of the Hollow that
it was I who would put an end to the curse. I watched with feverish eyes as the Hollow
came closer to me, as if it were moving toward me and I was who were standing still. It
was closing in on me and I was waiting.
As my foot touched the soil of that, I realized I knew about the
horror of Cresthaven Hollow from the very start. It was I who created the creature, it was
I who call it into being. My own fears, mixed with the fears of countless others, had
created and fed this creature until it had grown to such proportions. I cried out to every
god I could think of to save me from this evil.
I walked slowly and with deep resolution into the depths of the
Hollow. Along the way, I poured the gasoline over the path and the shrubs on either side.
I watched the rain spread the mixture over the ground as the oil reflected rainbow colors
when it mixed with the water. Nothing would be allowed to live in this grove any longer.
This was my destiny.
I reached the clearing and fearfully entered, looking for the
creature or its lighted globes. I saw nothing but the trees and the center stone which
this accursed creature had used as its altar of despicable acts. I poured a line of the
gasoline up to the foot of the stone. I stood for a moment and looked it. Then I doused
the rest of the flammable liquid over the rock. It had all started here. It would finish
here as well.
I dropped the can and stood staring into the sky, letting the rain
wash over my face. The cold drops could not calm the trembling of my mind nor the
trepidation which filled my heart. From somewhere inside of me, the terror burst forth and
lit a flame which burns to this day. The flame which ruptured from the rock and trailed
down through the grove invaded the air, began to spread throughout the Hollow. Suddenly I
heard a scream which pitched my soul into the deepest abyss. It came from behind me and
sounded like thousands of devils in torturous pain. Underneath it all I heard the low
growl of the creature as it fell victim to the flames.
I ran.
* * * * *
So, with my story is told I see that the same look of disbelief masks your face. You
will tell me that I am insane. But the doctors already tell me such. I will warn you,
however, that the creature of the Hollow is not dead—nor will it ever be.
The rock which stood in the center of that grove has never
disappeared. No, I know..., they will tell you that the heat of the fire shattered it. But
I know where it is. Tell you? Why? So that you may go and discover for yourself the
abomination which should not be? Never.
But what should it matter. Maybe I will tell you. This hospital is
built on the very spot where that grove once was. Cresthaven Hospital for the Mentally
Insane, you may now understand, is the legacy of that beast. On his sacred rock stands the
pillar of human achievement in this community and it affects all who reside here.
Shall I show you? Shall I show you what it has done to me?
Here, look at me! Look at what used to be my arm -- the veins of
snakes, tentacles which writhe from inside me! Never forget the lesson, boy! Never forget
what it has done to me! Never forget the lesson.
Contact Damion Bishop at darkfire@swbell.net