First draft – Bonus Episode (Dagon)
Whitby scene
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Overall Scenario:
All hell breaking loose and someone is trying to film a TV tourist documentary.
Setting the initial scene: Walking through the town and filming with someone else filming the other person. Digital portable TV camcorder used or mobile filming equipment.
Characters (first half):
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Presenter – Mary
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Cameraman/Husband – Edward/’Ted’ (long-suffering husband)
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Narrator
Characters (second half):
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Narrator
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Presenter – Mary
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Cameraman/Husband – Edward/’Ted’ (long-suffering husband)
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Base characters
Characters (epilogue):
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Eoghan Blakewell
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Jennifer Morgan
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Narrator
Script: First half
Mary: “Hello, wonderful viewers! This is the Travel Witch here.
Welcome once more to UK Travel Logs, where we go places, showing you exactly why you should go there – sadly our last one for now so we have been saving the best for last, going back home where I come from… Whitby! Many uploaded comments on social media have suggested this place of inspiration for our documentary. We listened to you and we’re FINALLY here!
This is Our Dracula Special. We will be also going to pay our respects, as we should, to the crew and wreck of the Demeter where Dracul first set foot on this soil so hang on by the tip of your bat wings as we explore this historic town.”
Narrator: Her husband silently mutters to himself, ‘you’d hope Dracula would do us all a favour and drink her blood dry but he has good taste and prefers younger, non-wrinkled, better-looking women without acid in their veins.’
They are filming all round Whitby including the Heritage Railway, interviewing locals, and featuring landmarks and facts about the town, harbour and other gems hidden away. There is one place though at the top of their list – and their fans lists – that is last to be filmed towards allotted time in the area…
Mary: “Here we have the magnificent and atmospheric Whitby Abbey, part of the influence for the fictional Dracula we know today but not as gruesome as another, one Dracul who just loved blood by the pint, it seems and stomach-churning violence, no matter if it were his own people or outside attackers on his land who were being inflicted with weaponry and merciless carnage. Please bear in mind, you have to pay to access this site for upkeep - unfortunate it isn’t free - but heart-stopping, spectacular views are worth every penny and you will be standing on what horror fans may consider Holy Ground – irony that it is an Abbey, isn’t it? Anyway, we’ve paid ahead so put your parasols up and join me for the panoramic scenery.” (Time to climb the steps and relevant sound effects.)
“Wow!!! Just look out at that windswept horizon!!! No wonder creative artists in all forms have been inspired by this historical town by the sea including writers, painters, and musicians. Brush stroke, note or word, sometimes there can be nothing to describe something you see and gaze upon its fragile yet eternal beauty.
Drink in the next few minutes and we’ll see you down the bottom…”
Narrator: He stops filming and she storms off towards the steps, grumbling about the natural lighting, what is going on with the damn sky and sea and he is staying calm, knowing she gets worse.
Ted: “You OK, Chucky?”
Mary: “Yes… I’ll be fine.”
Ted: “Sure about that?”
Mary: “For God’s sake, Ted!! I can feel my damn make-up running, it’s too bloody warm and I need this CORSET OFF! John Buchan NEVER wore one of there, did he? He only wrote about 39 steps, not about 199!!!”
Ted: “You said…”
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Mary: “YES!!!!! I KNOW WHAT I SAID!!! LOOKS GOOD FOR THE CAMERA, DOESN’T IT??”
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Narrator: “Back at bottom of the 199 steps. Edward, the cameraman, looks at his wife Mary, rolls his eyes and sighs, she’s out of breath yet again, bent over and her make-up is running with the muggy weather.
This is the third or fifth take - he doesn’t care anymore and wants a coffee and some food. Glancing around, he notices the clouds on distant horizons looking much greyer than normal, the sea is becoming rougher; it is a baking, sweltering wind – he thinks thunderstorms might be the gradient cause. He doesn’t notice a series of black vans driving down through the town towards the pier either but neither is anyone else, despite huge, spinning aerial on top of one of the vehicles.
There may be phone cell jammers and psychic devices and people involved. He is oblivious to this.
A couple of passers-by hear the rude conversation between the couple and cast a few disapproving looks. Their teenage kids are sniggering at the argument, having just gone down the steps themselves. The cameraman nods to the dad as he strolls over – they have known each other since childhood and went for a pint the previous night in town. He’s asking how the family have enjoyed their holiday.
He walks back to her, she has wiped off and applied lighter make-up, bitching about how he’s left her standing like an idiot - he wonders why he bothered in the first place to save a non-existent quality reputation.
An idle thought enters his head, that he wishes a dragon would gobble her up.
They continue filming around Whitby for about twenty minutes for background fillers and views.
They also film a short scene down at the bottom of the steps after her shouting match and non-existent apology.
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Mary: “Listen, I have a headache coming on. Maybe we shouldn’t do any more filming. This humidity is a nightmare.”
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Ted: “Excuses. Remember doing the Edinburgh programme? Wet weather, how many brollies we went through and had to keep buying, walking the entire Royal Mile three times just to get it perfect, up to the Castle and finally going down to the Plague Museum, that street cut off and everyone left to die… this is nothing.”
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Mary: “Since you elaborate so well, I concede your point. Ready to roll?”
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Ted: “Sure…”
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(She gets into position in front of the camera and transforms into the cheerful happy-go-lucky bubbly personality with a fake smile, not quite reaching her eyes)
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Mary: “If you want hidden gems, stunning views, historic horror-intrigue, and thought-provoking literature that fuelled a genre more to what we know today, this is the perfect place to visit and have a fabulous holiday or short break. If you are also interested in jewellery design and fashions of days gone by, our local auction house had a rare piece donated, sold for an eye-watering amount, found amazingly by the pier, and having washed ashore. (Taking the necklace out of the reticule.)
Here is a replica of the item now at the Miskatonic University, a beautifully textured coin medallion with an inscription around the edge. Well-travelled people, now well-travelled objects…” (They take a five-minute break to grab a drink from a flask of tea then continue filming.)
Mary: “Here at the Abbey, views astound and become a feast for the eyes - once you have drunk your fill, wander back into our town, exploring around each corner for more delights and bargains galore. Our family-run places for food, drink and atmosphere that will tickle those tastebuds including our well-known fish and chips Tip - watch out for seagulls – they have a sixth sense for open lunches. (Putting up a black lace parasol.)
My personal favourite times of year to come are the Steampunk and Goth weekends, having delightfully dressed individuals in the Regalia - no wonder tourists from around the world including the Japanese and American markets love making a detour here if they get the opportunity. Remember, book ahead to avoid disappointment as hotels and B&Bs may be snapped up to six months to a year in advance.
The seaside, beautiful sunshine, Dracula and fish and chips – what a nice, light bite for anyone!
Talking of tourists and lunch breaks, even presenters of programmes like this smell what’s cooking behind the scenes and get really hungry so back in a while, people, the lovely hubby and I get to eat local fare in the cafe we love to frequent when we actually get the chance to.
Later Gators….” (Breathes a deep sigh as her husband stops filming.)
Mary: “Thank God, that’s over! How do you think it sounded? Good?” (No answer from the other person.) “Hello? (Singing sarcastically, ‘Ground Control to Major Tom…’) Anyone there? How do you think it went? Oh, my Good God, on that thing again!”
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Ted: (Cameraperson on phone looking at messages and reviews) “What? Sorry, checking weather and review stuff.”
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Mary: “Really…”
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Ted: “YES. REALLY.”
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Mary: “Let me see….”
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(He hands her the phone and she is looking decidedly miffed and annoyed.)
Next Setting:
Local café near seafront and pier, coffee and toasted cheese sandwiches, little table facing to the horizon and the Abbey. Someone sitting at another table playing with the sachets in the ceramic box.
Mary: (Presenter sounding a little irritated, still intense hot weather and still in costume.) “Be honest. I mean it. How was the overall image? How did it sound to you? You really looked seriously constipated at times behind the lens.”
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Ted: (Silence and a loaded look aimed away from her.) “Well…”
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Mary: “Well, WHAT???”
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Ted: “Do I have to be so honest?”
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Mary: “YES.”
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Ted: (Sighs heavily; rolls eyes to the ceiling.) “Oh God, here goes nothing…don’t be offended please. With a bit of tweaking, it will be great but right now way too cheesy what with being in full corseted costume, black oversized hat, feathers, unusual industrial sunglasses and mini-gears and it NOT being the Steampunk weekend, while the brolly was a nice touch with the vultures we have as mighty seagulls around here…”
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Mary: “I wasn’t able to come then, could I? Shouldn’t have come decked out in this bloody costume. Still, we made it this weekend on a tightening schedule, it WAS supposed to be brighter today - funny looking clouds forming over there on the horizon. If I didn’t know better, that was a maelstrom heading this way. Damn heat. Gets you seeing things.
By the way, do you know what that police officer was doing on that boat yesterday harassing that poor owner? I’ve heard some weird rumours someone is missing, no-one saw or heard anything and it’s to do with that abandoned church and that place in town, bit like the Masons. They found that skin-crawling, writhing, disgusting octopus-like creature on the beach yesterday too, tentacles moving, still alive and trying to drag the rescuer into the water apparently. Likely story.”
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Ted: “Could I say something?”
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Mary: “Sure.”
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Ted: “Shut up right now and eat your lunch. My ears hurt. Your food’s going cold and so is your cappuccino.” (Trying to call someone twice, pulling a face and leaving a text message.) Ted: “Can’t get hold of your friend, ‘the Professor’?”
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Mary: “No, strangely enough. They haven’t answered my calls for a few days. I need to ask her something but… leave it, it doesn’t matter.”
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Ted: “It clearly does. No protective amulet on today? You’ll need it to ‘dance tonight in the moonlight, naked, with the Pentacle on the ground in chalk to summon the spirits’…you had some covens complaining last time.”
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Mary: “Well, it didn’t go with the outfit. It would clash so badly and I have never been able to not have mismatching jewellery.”
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Ted: “Yeah, you forgot your vanity broomstick. The neighbours will ring the police again if they see you do naked dancing and chanting! (He sniggers loudly.)
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Mary: “You’re a bitch, you know that?”
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Ted: “I could call you a fake but that would be so unfair…”
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Mary: “Thank god this is the last one - a blessing in disguise.”
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Ted: “You’ve had your ‘visions’ again, haven’t you? Maybe you should have carried with you Amber instead of that one or your tarot cards.”
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Mary: “I have a joke for you… what does Dracula drink to wake himself up in the morning?”
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Ted: “Black coffee with a spoonful of blood sugar. Heard it before. Stop deflecting and tell the Professor what’s so ‘important.’ You promised her, especially with your beginnings being so well known to locals.”
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Mary: “Maybe tomorrow morning if she’s available. Come with…?”
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Narrator: Her husband has gone on his phone and seems far away from the cafe, not hearing her speak and switching off. She will ask him again later on, considering the horrific topics of her visions and night terrors.
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Ted: (Eating lunch, looking out the window. He turns his head slightly to one side.) “Weird.”
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Mary: “What’s ‘weird’?”
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Ted: “Seen those vans go by, no logo, all black and jamming aerial out the top?”
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Mary: (His wife sipping coffee, glares at him.) “What vans?”
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Ted: “Those black ones and the police van too, going towards the pier. Could have a wander and poke my nose in, bring the equipment, see what I could capture…...”
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Mary: “Leave the filming for today. I just want to go home.”
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Ted: “What about the deadline?”
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Mary: “Screw the f****** deadline.”
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Ted: “Street’s gone a bit quiet though…everyone seems to have gone to the beach to see something too, something out to sea.”
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Mary: “And we would throw ourselves off a cliff too if everyone was doing it? Lunch then HOME.”
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Ted: “Nope. Forget that idea. I want to see what’s drawing that crowd down there.”
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Mary: “Oh no, you’re not, sweetie… HOME.”
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Ted: “Yeah, right… seen the people down there? It must be something big for that many to bottleneck the pier entrance.”
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Mary: “No. HOME. Following my gut, not comfortable being here and why is the weather changing and I need more coffee and….”
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Ted: “JUST STOP YOUR CRAP NOW. This is our last contracted programme and instead of you being a total bitch as usual, listen to someone else for a damn change. The most unexpected, God given opportunity to make this more dramatic and add an edge – it could be something structural or to do with human life, maybe a dead body floating in…”
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Mary: “I. Don’t. Care. I just don’t want to bloody be here…what the hell…look at the sea water… it’s being… churned… boiled… bubbling all over like the new world ground in Narnia… I need to scratch my skin so bad….”
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Ted: “You are being pedantic and I don’t care about your gut feeling right now. STOP BEING A KAREN.”
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Mary: “I’m trusting my gut here. I need to leave.” (She’s turning the metal ‘gold’ coin medallion over and over in her hands, which she’s taken out of her reticule.)
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Ted: “Ask your damn lucky charm for guidance, then. It’s just a replica.”
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Mary: “Yes, the infamous golden coin now in a private collection, found in a clenched hand of a screaming baby from stormy waters between the beach and sealine and now to be passed down to no-one. I don’t know if I was left on the beach. Someone joked at school I washed ashore from the bottom of the sea or from an island… it wasn’t funny and I still wonder about my origins.”
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Ted: “Oh shiny crystal ball, what is thy mystical and strange wisdom for your disciple?”
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Mary: “Don’t mock what you don’t know about. Karma? What goes around comes around. My gut is wrenching here and I need to go home.”
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Ted: “Eat more yoghurt then. I’m going.”
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Mary: “Knock yourself out. I can start editing when I get back.”
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Ted: “A seasoned professional like yourself, bowing out now? Scandalous, even for you.”
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Mary: “You’re a fool to go down. That’s how you get into something you shouldn’t.”
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Ted: “Maybe a live feed with a local celeb like yourself….” (Pandering to ego to stop what normally happens not getting her own way.)
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Mary: (She tilts her head slightly, thinking and calculating.) “It could make an impact… local news, new direction… I don’t know, I really don’t.”
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Ted: “Five to ten mins tops, quick film and maybe an interview with someone. Nothing dangerous involved. Promise.”
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Mary: “I’ll think about it. Think, being the operative word. Let me finish my coffee. I need caffeine.”
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Ted: (Said quietly under breath.) “She needs more than that….”
Next scene:
Down by the Pier
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Narrator: The Department of Para-Scientific Research have been monitoring all electronic and mobile phone usage including calls and emails, jamming specific digital signal ranges having discovered the hacking within DPSR.
Black vans have made their way down to the pier to close it off as monitoring of weather and temperature alongside other strange reports and behaviour. Local police and authorities are ‘supporting the Bureau’ to keep the public in the dark and not panicking - they are arguing too long as to who’s actually in charge on-site, with some else taking charge right under their nose.
The DPSR are also monitoring individuals they have located within their catchment area, in whom they have a specialised interest.
Chains have just been put across the entrance to a now completely vacated pier – security staff have been posted. One has been instructed to monitor chain non-access, others keeping growing crowds at bay with a prepared story, as briefed enroute by their bosses.
The crowd is proving a problem of sorts in interactions and trying to get onto the pier - it’s about to get uncomfortable for everyone watching the drama unfold…”
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Guard 1: “Sorry, no access, I’m afraid, a structural company wish to do something regarding the Pier area with regards to a film crew being in the area scouting for suitable locations and have asked for the structure to be triple checked in advance for safety.
At the moment, all we have been told is an engineering company assessing the structural integrity of the Pier earlier are making further investigations based on their initial findings. For the public’s safety, we are preventing anyone accessing this area and apologise for the inconvenience. Any noises heard will be from equipment used and again, apologies for this also. Excuse me for a moment please. Keep an eye on that group.”
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Disgruntled Tourist/Local: “Well, a bit unexpected AND this is a public area. We have a right to go there if we choose. No notice, no advertisement, legal paperwork on display as regulation states. Why are you here, and why are you stopping us? Is that a weapon to hit out with as well? Who do you work for? Come on. Answer me then. No, you can’t, can you? CAN YOU??”
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Narrator: The guard walks onto the beginning of the pier, away from where people can supposedly not hear but unfortunate for him, the cameraman has a high-quality microphone on the end of his camera and hears the following from a distance in his headphones. (Earpiece - speaks into microphone.)
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Guard 1: “Yes, the Pier has been fully vacated as instructed. Let no-one through under any circumstances. Understood.
Sighting confirmed of the boat with specified person aboard… advisable you listen to the other guards, developing a slight headache here – we may need more back-up possibly if the crowd becomes affected too much and we might be overrun.
They’re starting to murmur something and just grouping together, sounds like a low chanting.”
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Guard 2: (Feeling slightly light-headed.) “I don’t know who you would contact for information and making serious complaints about disruption and environmental noise pollution.”
“I cannot tell you anything other than what we have been informed of - I am not allowed to let anything or anyone through for security and safety reasons. Apologies but I have strict orders.” (Into microphone.) “Code Yellow. Chanting in small groups confirmed and volume of people increasing as if drawn here. Please advise.”
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Guard 3: (Coming down with a slow-growing headache.) “Sir, madam you are not allowed through. I don’t care if you are a reporter or anyone in authority or a TV programme maker. This site has been commandeered for a film crew and scenes to be shot and no, no exclusives. Please move away.
Code Red Alpha. Chanting confirmed, all under influence and there is….”
Oh crap. They’re arriving in droves from underneath the worsening waves onto the beach area up to the pier and going no further than the crowds. They seem to be…just standing there among them, heads down and… praying? Worshipping? I don’t have a bloody clue.”
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Narrator: The local radio station and newspaper had approached and tried to question the guards in turn but to no avail. The police now have official order, unhappy with the rug being pulled from underneath and are now dealing with a less irate but more hypnotised crowd than previously anticipated.
The weather is growing worse and it is now so humid, everyone who isn’t chanting, under a spell, or staring into space is headache-suffering, sweating and unaware of what they’re doing. Sea water is now bubbling more and more, the waves are rippling more frequently as though the water will split wide open. Darker, denser clouds creep their way over across the sky; strange, regular, pulsating noises can be heard from underneath the pier, like a huge heartbeat…”
The story given by the guards is machinery. Wind sea spray though is now being blown stronger inland and coming into contact with it, it stings eyes and skin with a burning sensation…”
Mary and her husband are walking towards the Pier, filming from the café, and walking down with a running commentary. He has got close enough to the Pier to listen in to the guards talking with very high-quality sound equipment, not directly affected by the jamming and digital devices in the black vans and barriers now up, thanks to a black-market plug-in deflector, and in among the crowd with his wife searching for a better angle. The sea spray being wiped off the lens is causing a change in volume with the crowd…”
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Mary: “We are detouring towards the Pier as it is seemingly now ‘off limits’ and there’s a crowd beginning to build who, from we are standing or walking, are unhappy with the sudden and unexpected closure of one of our - and my own - favourite attractions here in Whitby. The sea spray and wind have seriously picked up and I find it strangely refreshing but for others it is like being stung by a hornet’s nest full of wasps. The whisper from some is it seems there may be structural issues with our beloved Pier.
The noises though… I can hear some of the crowd whispering a name and I can’t quite put my finger on it but it seems so familiar… like I’ve heard it before but don’t know where from… it’s getting too loud.
I have a bad feeling about all of this. Come on… out of this damn crowd, I need a clearer view.”
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Ted: “Seriously, a set of cars are making their way to Pier right now as I am speaking and all the crowd are either chanting or looking at the sky.”
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Mary: (Going further up the hill from the pier, Mary looking out with vintage binoculars. Lowering voices so they can only hear each other. No-one else about.) “I don’t believe it. Look who is on the boat… use the camera and if need be, keep rolling no matter what happens.”
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Ted: “Why?”
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Mary: “Just do it… for Heaven’s sake, look through these if you don’t believe me.”
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Ted: “Hold on, a fishing boat? In this weather? MAD!!! Wait, is that… Alex? That really friendly, helpful bloke we met on that cruise special before he ‘disappeared’? Wasn’t he a copper, police, something on those lines? His theories were out there. We’d know him anywhere.
WHAT THE HELL IS HE DOING OUT THERE? Who are those half-baked goons with him, look like half baked fish people…
Wait… Otis Marsh is down there on the pier. Sharm II. The DPSR and IIFI are there, I think. What’s that Innsmouth fish-faced leech doing here… what’s he up to?”
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Mary: “Are you convinced now this is something you DON’T want involved in???”
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Ted: “The opposite, in fact. We need proof all this is going on as I am almost 100% sure that is the mythical DPSR and whatever they are involved in is not good. If they’re about, I would bet money every damn time there be a Marsh lurking somewhere with ideas of grandeur or world domination or trying to save Planet Earth. I’m not a conspiracist for nothing!
We need onto that pier. Alex is being supported onto…. oh god, he’s being left… no, held up both sides… as a sacrifice? Sweet Jesus… he’s a sacrifice for a sea monster? Something dropped into the water… reading something…. what the f*** is going on?”
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Mary: “You might consider me a hypocrite and an utter bitch, but Otis Marsh is something else. He’s a Marsh.
If I am right, they’re Deep Ones, swarms of them from under the sea. They’re all on the shore line, on the beach, beside the pier. I’m sure of it. The worst outcome would be if they deposited something in the sea water as part of a ritual, if it was an egg or rock of sorts… it would be if they were summoning… Mother Hydra… maybe Dagon. You wouldn’t want both….”
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Ted: “They were reading from a large book too, leatherbound, old-looking and weatherworn.”
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Mary: “Must be the Pnakotic Manuscripts… what did that crank do?”
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Ted: “…monster-like gods and deities are coming out of the sea?”
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Mary: “The ‘visions’ you were mocking not that long ago – moving, mysterious islands full of weird tentacled creatures and black writing in ancient languages, obelisks, the city under the ocean and those that live there. ‘Yog Sothoth’ cropped up too. I don’t want anywhere near that pier.
Sickened. Knowledge I should definitely have no access to but like a fool, I kept digging until I regretted it. Cults, human sacrifices, fish people, mind, and body control – I should have never told Professor Quaterman my story.”
Start praying hard to God if you believe in Him or guardian angels. Otis Marsh is summoning some of the Ancient Ones.”
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Ted: (Looking down, SAID AT THE SAME TIME.) “Mary, why is your hand bleeding… throw the damn medallion away, it’s hurting you, pushing into flesh! It’s… ‘singing’!! The chanting… getting louder…. Throw it away!
FOR GODS SAKE THROW IT AWAY!!!”
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Mary: “… HELP ME… it’s hurting… it’s stuck on my hand, burning in… I CAN’T REMOVE IT… it’s hurting me so much…
JUST GET IT OFF ME!!!!” (Screaming as loud and piercing as possible.)
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Narrator: He tried to wrench the replica medallion from her hand as she gave out air-shattering screams loud enough for some of the Deep Ones in the crowd to turn and look where these were coming from. A small group, accompanied with fish guards, cut through the crowd easily as they left the Pier, parting people to one side like the Red Sea and then closing back again.
She was in so much physical pain, stabbing waves swirled around her head, hand skin burning from attempts to wrench the gold medallion away. That and she was frozen in fear at the sight of gangly, fish-eyed half-people coming towards her, strangely understanding, and letting whatever it was take over.
Where she didn’t want to go but her fate was sealed, being led gently away down to the Pier – part of her brain couldn’t get her body to respond, run away or fight back - her husband was gone and nowhere to be seen.
He was, in fact, closer to the action and could see everything, having snuck through the crowd and being able to film what followed.
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Ted: (From inside a room, huddled down near the window and looking into the camera.) “If you find this film, distribute this far and wide about the true events this day. I don’t have long to make this recording as I know they are onto me but I will get down what I can and hide this.
If I have gone missing, this is because I have been targeted for a long time by THEM and this may be the only recorded documentary of the Horror at Whitby Pier.
My wife was led off down the short hill and following, I had snuck quietly through the crowd to get to a building behind vans and government vehicles. Almost everyone is looking at the now blackening sky or heads down chanting some strange language.
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All I know is Alex is lying on the wooden floor of the Pier untouched, seemingly uninjured but unsure if he was dead. My poor wife…. oh God, how to describe it… she was hardly shaking, resigned almost, and being brought before the Octopus-like creature, Father Dagon, I think and a Mother Hydra? A horrifying yet wondrous view seared into my vision for as long as I live. The monstrous tentacles, those sharp razored teeth, that unearthly smell I can only describe as rancid… Dagon, that I had heard of.
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I should have believed. My wife told me all the stories her adopted family used to say about these so-called mythical creatures but she and I never, ever thought to put credence in those words with all our travels across the world and the myths we came across until, with my own eyes, I saw she was taken to be a Deep One, one who is brought back to the Sea and the Citadel. I saw the crowd part and seal up - the woman who had driven me mad for sixteen years with bitching, perfection levels, autocratic narcissism, two-sided faces, and attitude yet in front of a rolling lens, becoming all docile, sweet and the perfect ‘nice’ on the outside, online and to the world - she never knew about the meaningful types of emotional affairs I had to keep me sane - I don’t regret any of them. I was going to leave HER when we got back and wrapped everything up. Turns out she was the Deep One who left me for another life underwater and I can’t even claim life insurance because no-one will believe me if I tell them what really happened. They may accuse me of murder one day if they find me alive.” (Someone knocks on the hotel room door three times.)
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“Forgive me, Mary, I hope you’re happier where you are. You now have a whole sea to bitch at, instead of me.”
Narrator: The Dragon met the Queen Dragon of the Sea, finding herself now to be floundering without wings. Mother Hydra looked at her, at Dagon who then looked at the dark sky and made a hellish, noise and the chanting continued from the people on shore. She sniffed the scared human, roared too at the sky with lightning bolts flashing - tentacles rose out of swirling, steaming waters, taking the screaming Mary down beneath tenuous waves, never to be seen again. She still held onto the medallion - Otis did not even blink, care or look worried nor recognised someone who had the old blood. His attention was elsewhere.
When the lightning bolts hit the water, the Deep Ones scattered. A woman walked down the pier, and it was Professor Quaterman, who Mary had shared all her forbidden knowledge with, under the power and influence of the entity Nyarlathotep.
With glowing, red eyes, she was warning Otis he has tried to play God and he must choose exile with the Deep Ones or be part of the entity that is Yog Sothoth as punishment as portals are everywhere and eyes will always be watching him for the moment of Retribution. He wisely chose to be part of a much powerful Being.
Whatever saved Alex floats back to Yog Sothoth, despite protests but James persuades Eoghan ‘better to let it go back to where it belongs’.”
Epilogue
Approx. one week later:
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Eoghan Blakewell Voice Over: Jennifer is over for the afternoon, going through some cold files, and filing her own report on the incident at Whitby Pier. The DPSR is sending requests for their account.
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Jennifer: “That poor woman. The fear she must have had.”
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Eoghan: “You mean that lady who was taken at the pier?”
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Jennifer: “I wonder if they ever found her husband. They made travel programmes, met Alex abroad and stayed in contact. Ted was a conspiracy theorist, by all accounts. Wouldn’t surprise me if he was a Flat-earther.”
Eoghan: “Apparently, they did. I heard from James. He was found frightened to death, holed up in a hotel room near to the front. The tape wasn’t found from his recording equipment.” (There’s a loud knock on the door. Eoghan goes to answer it.) “A package for me, just left here. I think this is a mistake… I didn’t order anything.”
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Jennifer: (Jennifer walks up behind him.) “Are you sure?”
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Eoghan: “Jennifer, I’m absolutely sure.”
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Jennifer: “Well, as it’s here, let’s see what it is. Someone clearly has gone to the trouble of getting this here for whatever reason, addressed to a specific person, and we have wards on this place for protection, as well as for ourselves. I’m curious anyway.”
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Narrator: They take the package in and sit down on the sofa with coffee, paperwork and the surprise padded envelope. They put extra wards in place then open the package, looking inside. They look at each other, just as there’s three loud knocks at the door…
Written by Lynn Beresford
Co-written in parts with Ste Beresford
17/08/2024