The Abyss is My Friend

Seth completed his shift at the Cape Hatteras liquor store.   The drone of fluorescent lights and the squawks of busy tourists filled his day.  A bell on the door clanged as he exited the shop.   Warm, humid air fogged his glasses.  The salty and fishy aromas of the ocean filled his nostrils as he strolled home.

“Go straight home from work.  I don’t need you to start any trouble,” his mother, Caroline, had told him. 

Walking by buildings covered in rebel flags and passing a sign that read: 

“Vote in the year 2020. 
Make liberals cry again.”   

His blood boiled, and he breathed deeply.  Since the beginning, they had been dividing the country, using hate and division to win.   They didn’t even have the decency to hide it anymore.  

Bright lights beamed behind him, and a jarring honk interrupted his thoughts. Seth rolled out of the way before a white truck hit him, the driver yelling a racial slur. 

Reaching into his shirt, he took out a silver star-shaped amulet and sang in a soulful voice: 

“In thy name let us behold the father. From the depths of the waters I come. 
From the depths of the deep ones also have come. 
Hail to the ancient dreams.” 

The truck drove over the bridge. A huge humanoid creature came out from the depths and snatched them in its large tentacles.  The monster dragged the passengers screaming to the surf below.  Their hatred washed away. 

Whistling as he walked to the sea-green bungalow where he and his mother lived.  His mother greeted him with open arms and a warm dinner.   

Later that evening, Seth went online to find his friends on the deep web. They called themselves the Myscatonics. Through them, he understood how to summon the Old Ones. They had named their upcoming project Nyaralathotep.  

On the screen sat an image of the mighty Egyptian Pharaoh surrounded by hieroglyphs and sigils. The next chapter in the Necronomicon.  An ancient text they had transcribed from Arabic to English and posted it online so that it could reach its coils to the deepest parts of the web.  

“May the Great Pharaoh rise after twenty-eight centuries and awaken the ignorant from their slumber!” chanted the group in unison.  

The air grew icy as his smartphone cast news of the latest election,  of protest and riots in the streets, and an ongoing plague.

Everything was burning to the ground, and something new would be reborn from the ashes.  What that is, he doesn’t realize.

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