CreepsMcPasta Creepypasta Radio - "We Found the Rarest Metal on Earth. Something Else was Buried With It" Creepypasta

Episode Date: August 15, 2021

CREEPYPASTA STORY►by t4bullock: https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comm...Creepypastas are the campfire tales of the internet. Horror stories spread through Reddit r/nosleep, forums and blogs, rather than word of mouth. Whether you believe these scary stories to be true or not is left to your own discretion and imagination. LISTEN TO CREEPYPASTAS ON THE GO-SPOTIFY► https://open.spotify.com/show/7l0iRPd...iTUNES► https://podcasts.apple.com/gb/podcast...CREEPY THUMBNAIL ART BY►Jaehyeon-lee: https://www.artstation.com/user-e9532...SUGGESTED CREEPYPASTA PLAYLISTS-►"Good Places to Start"- https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=g7YCb...►"Personal Favourites"- https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AEa2R...►"Written by me"- https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gX6RA...►"Long Stories"- https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list...FOLLOW ME ON-►Twitter: https://twitter.com/Creeps_McPasta►Instagram: https://instagram.com/creepsmcpasta/►Twitch: http://www.twitch.tv/creepsmcpasta►Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/CreepsMcPastaCREEPYPASTA MUSIC/ SFX- ►http://bit.ly/Audionic ♪►http://bit.ly/Myuusic ♪►http://bit.ly/incompt ♪►http://bit.ly/EpidemicM ♪-This creepypasta is for entertainment purposes only-

I'm afterdam, for the maids'er. For the maids, they're two-hour faster. Doy. Toadne. With Eurocity direct, though? 16 times per day from out Brussels and in two-hour. Now, from 19 euros in place of 25. Book you tickets on NMBSInternational.com.

The festival season is aangabroken, and that bett-bet. And so, came Kim to Amazon.com.com. On look to a waterdict tent, a comfortable luget. Oh, so, knus. And Lupeartprint regalearze. Now, Kim has kind of the modder, just like modder man, oh, has he only mudder on?

Oh yeah, only mudder. DROG-blown? Goar for. Find what you need to have on amazon.com. com. I had spent the last 27 hours changing planes and sitting in airports. I was exhausted and I could not wait to settle in for a shower and proper food in my hotel. I was an academic, you see, a professor of geology at the Union

University of North Carolina, I was one of the best in my field, and I was being dragged across the planet, like a graduate assistant forced to run errands. All of this was to help a favor for a close friend. He had given me scant information about what he was involved in, and frankly, I was quite perturbed, but I agreed to come. I did not agree to be starved, however. The whole thing started three days prior. I had been hired by a major mining

to perform surveys. The operation was a year contract paying six figures each year with a bonus for major deposits found. I had lived the last 18 months in the lap of luxury, being wined and dined by executives who saw me as a ticket to potential trillions of dollars in profits. I don't mind, of course. Beluga caviar, the finest champagne and wines and exotic women in my were par for the course,

and I enjoyed it to his fullest. I was fast asleep amidst my silk sheets when I heard the buzz of my mobile phone. I grumbled and tossed it to the floor. It rang three more times from a blocked number

before I finally answered. It took every ounce of energy to lift my head up from the pillow and grumble a salutation, even if it was weak. What? My cotter mouth caused me to rattle. the words out from parched lips. Jesus Christ, is that you? He sound like hell. I instantly

recognise the sound of my old roommate's voice. Tony, is that you? Hold on a minute, will you? I sat up, momentarily energized. Regret followed that decision and I was forced to lay my head back down. The room continued to spin. I placed the foot on the cold hardwood floors to slow everything down. Malachi, good to hear your voice. How's caracas? Toasty warm, with lots of quality scenery. I shot a glance over my shoulder at the woman who lay in the other side of the bed. What was the name again? Veronica, Valerie? Chloe, that was it. No, no it wasn't. Malachi, I need a favor. A big one. How tight down to that mining are you? I could hear the urgency in his voice. Antonio Belina Cortez was my best friend of 25 years.

We had met as freshmen in UNC and stayed together all through graduate school. He was an archaeologist at one point for the Museum of History and Rally, but had been off on Diggs for years. I had no idea what he did anymore. I can get away for a week if I need to. What's this about? We found something in a rack mall, something big, groundbreaking, revolutionary. But I need your help to confirm it.

You're the only man I can hold down a security clearance." The earnestness, with which he said those words, tugged at my heartstrings. Listen, the Venezuelans don't particularly like Americans right now. I'm on a tight leash. I don't know if it would be the safest that... We can pay you. Half a million US for a consulting fee. If you can make it by Friday.

Tony said flatly. I could hear the disappointment in his voice, but did not have the strength to fight him about it. I'll pack a bag. You're your Friday, that's how the phone conversation went. What follows was an endless torrent of emails and non-disclosure agreements I was sure to violate the hell out of to the highest bidder, if given enough to drink. I was forced to fly economy, smashed against the window by a soccer mom who talked endlessly

about a children in Spanish, to someone else I didn't care to listen to. I left my earbuds back home. The headache, however, came along for the flight. When we landed in Mexico City, I thought about a hotel room, but my layover didn't allow for it. A six-hour delay forced me to stay on the plane. We transferred to a larger plane and touched down in Germany that evening. I was picked up by two large men in military uniforms and roughly placed into an SUV. I was driven to Remstein Air Base and shoved into a US Air Force car. plane with little fanfare. Without a drink, my anxiety overtook me on the flight, and I threw up several times before passing out from exhaustion. We landed the next morning in Iraq. I found breakfast

to be utterly lacking in every way. A 40-minute drive, and I arrived at my hotel for the evening, a small military installation. I nearly fell from the cramped car as it parked on the concrete. A tall, With overly slick black hair Approached in an off-the-rack A blue suit with brown tie A wide smile Showed perfectly straight teeth

His evening tanned And non-blemish skin contrasted With a white shirt under his jacket His deep brown eyes lit up as he saw me I tried to stand up straight But my back and knees did not allow it It was oppressively hot But he did not seem phased in the least

Tony You could have sent a car And what's the deal The economy Tickets? Bha Complain Look at you You look like an old man

Practically falling apart He led her chuckle I interpreted as Snide Don't we need to call the boo-boo bus For you The rich lifestyle has made you A bit soft Malachi As Dr Malachi

So what's the deal Tony You find Cortez's record collection In the jungle Tony's smile faded. His eyes shifted left and right, then locked back of me. Not here, he said, as he handed me a thick packet in a manila envelope. Read this over, then get some rest. I'll pick you up tomorrow after breakfast. Keep your wits about you, Malachi. You look like you drunk too much. I brushed them off and asked him to stay for dinner. After a moment, he declined and left in a silver pickup truck.

I checked into my long-aweighed shower. A nice dinner and cocktails from the bottles of vodka I smuggled in my bags pushed me towards a deep sleep. Just a good night's rest and I'll get my day started right. I set an alarm for 6 a.m. and poured a nightcap before laying across the bed in my suit. At 4.45 a.m. I woke up in a cold sweat and threw up in the trash gun. Tony greeted me out front. It was nine in the morning. It was already

He laughed relentlessly in my condition and forced a bottle of water into my hand. He inquired about breakfast, but I told him I felt under the weather. I grabbed a muffin and decided to leave. As we walked outside, I saw he had been driven in an overly large black suburban. How does this suit you,

Dr. Malachi, Andrew McMillan III? The sarcasm was practically palpable as he rattled off each syllable in a cartoonish enunciated tone. I stared over the frames of my sunglasses at the car for a moment before I readjusted them. Fine, I said meekly and stepped into the open door. Tony didn't talk much. He kept his eyes glued to his tablet as he flicked through various screens. I drained the water and took a glance around the SUV's cabin. No booze here, Mal.

It's a Muslim country. Oh, I think there's peps in the closest to you. Tony didn't even look up from his work. I cracked the can and took a long swallow before I placed a frigid aluminium against my temple. Tony shook his head slightly, but said nothing. A 90-minute car ride took us deep into the desert. The endless piles of sand was somehow relaxing

and poked me up a bit from my hangover. Yes, if he ducked off the main road, and onto the dirt path. We are here, Tony said, as we passed over a wooden bridge near a long dead river. Welcome to Project Colmillo, Tony said, matter of vaguely. A huge archaeological dig site sprawled before us, covering at least one square mile.

The sand had been cleared down to the rock beneath to provide space for the heavy equipment scattered all around. Trailers and makeshift buildings were crammed against a never-in wall of dunes to the right of the the entryway. On the largest white tent I had ever seen was erected. It looked like the inflated dome of a football stadium, perhaps 300 feet across and 50 feet high. In the center and just behind the structures, her pit was dug. Orange dust climbed in pillars from the pit as crew worked deep in the earth. This is not what I expected. What were you expecting exactly? Not a villa by the beach, but it's good enough for us,

Tony's sheepish smile made me angry for some reason. I took another swig of my Pepsi, but said nothing as we parked. The main doors of the office building opened, and the most beautiful woman I had ever seen walked out. Her Class A Air Force uniform was professional, but the tailored navy blue pants left little to the imagination. The wards were plastered over the left side of the jacket.

Tony and I exited the car and he strode to meet her halfway across the concrete parking lot. She hugged Tony gently and they exchanged the warm greeting before she turned to face me. I was utterly lost as I stared at her. A straightened hair was pulled tight into a bun to give the reddish-tinted black hair just off the collar. Are you okay, Dr. McMillan? The woman's voice snapped me out of my trance as I realized she had spoken to me several times. What? She appeared, not a good start.

I said, How was your flight? Oh, good. It was good. You look very good. This whole thing is nice. That was the best I could muster. I think part of my soul died right there on the ground in the blazing heat. She stared at me, and I could almost hear her inner voice calling me a moron. Tony face-barmed over his forehead.

Right. I'm Major Jordan Broadhurst, US Air Force. Follow me, please, gentlemen. She turned and walked back towards the facility as Tony barely contained his laughter. Very smooth. Very smooth indeed, he whispered as he scanned his ID badge and he walked inside the temporary office building. Breathing in ten minutes, gentlemen, main conference room, Dr. Cortez.

make sure he doesn't get lost, the major said. I couldn't help but stare as she walked down the hallway and out of sight. Tony led me to his spacious, well-furnished office. He situated himself at his desk and began to log in to his computer. Several items were spread over the desk. Why is the US military on a dig site? And what does the government need with an archaeologist anyway? And why is the Air Force chick so fine? So many questions The government A good archaeologist I spent a week

With the ark of the Covenant You will be surprised What we find buried In the dark corners of the world Even though he was smiling He said it's so deadpan I couldn't tell if he was joking or not I gestured to the deformed lizard statue

On the side of his desk and picked it up A copper-tinged hexagintzoned sat on his forehead A dagger laid next to it made from a reflective blackstone, probably obsidian, the handle was unilateredly carved in the image of a serpent. It appeared to me made of bone. Your newest village trophies, I assume?

A snake wrapped in bondage rope? Where did this come from? As I turned it over my hand, I noticed how warm it was. The heat seemed to radiate outwards from the inside. I thought I heard a brief whisper behind me, but my reflexes were. was so slow, I barely registered it my hangover. Recovered, and to be honest, I'm not entirely sure.

Samarian, I think. Some sort of winged serpent deity. Unique. I got it from a Bedouin trader near the border in Iran. It gives off his own electromagnetic field and it's slightly radioactive. He laughed as I quickly sat it back down. Relax, it's harmless.

Although it does make the computer go crazy if it gets too close. It has a plate of corbite there on the head. It's in the handle of that knife too. The eyes of the snake are made of corbinite chips. Power practically jumped from my chest. We have only ever found 29 grams of the stuff on the entire planet. Corpnite is the most powerful conductor ever discovered. It's malleable but incredibly heat resistant. Its properties are unprecedented. Why would someone put it on a flying snake statue? It's thousands of years old Malachi They probably didn't know what it was

The glyph carvings and the statue is also strange Some of the symbols are cuneiform But the others No idea I can't believe it Corbinite It's amazing I stared with new fine appreciation of the statue

You haven't said anything about you being the one who discovered Corbinite since I brought it up Are you not feeling well today I beamed a white smile at Tony. I didn't think it was my place to brag about my discovery to my best friend on his job site. First for you then. The statue does have some other

odd properties. Like what, Tony? Does it whisper to you in the dark? Free me, feed me, let me loose. I growled it in my best gulland voice and laughed so hard my headache came back. Tony did not. Something like that.

Tony. He did not smile. He did not move. He looked like he just stared at me. The coldness in his eyes was unnatural. The whole thing made me nervous. I saw he had been reviewing a photograph

and would look like an elephant tusk on his computer. I wanted to ask him about it, but his eyes bore into me and made me swallow my question. Finally, he spoke again. to break the tension. Come on, it's time for you to see while you're here. I opened another Pepsi as we entered the conference room, 18 chairs set around a wooden table with a large projector screen on a far wall. A laptop computer sat nearby, as well as a tablet on the table in front of each chair. I plop myself into a cushioned chair and drank it from the can

and held a cup of ice against my forehead as Tony talked to Major Broadhurst. occasionally she would glance over at me and frown before she returned to her heated conversation. I've already screwed this up, I thought to myself. I embarrassed my friend and he has caught all the flack. The door swung open and a dozen men and women in suits entered the room. I sat up and attempted to look professional. Tony pulled up the chair next to me as the Major picked up the tablet. Good morning and I hope everyone is rested and ready to be.

to go. Today is a big Dr. Dr. Dr. has flown in from Venezuela to be with us today. He's considered one of, if not the best geologist, on the planet. Doctor, did you have a chance to read through your packet? Open my mouth

and closed it again without a word. Her anger practically sliced through my entire body. She pursed her lips, kept her calm and redirected. Let's get Dr. McMillan caught up, shall we? Several months ago, an American satellite passed over the area searching for a Turkish cargo plane which crashed in the desert without a transponder. The satellite found the plane, but during the recovery, pound something never seen before.

The Air Force tasked my unit with using an advanced satellite to scan the area around the crash site. Further scans made us realize we needed to construct this facility to establish a permanent base of operations for study. I am here as an American liaison to the Iraqi government and technology expert. There, I saved you three hours. All caught up then. That wasn't so bad. I smiled weakly at my own joke and glanced around the room. No one smiled back.

I adjusted my necktie and sunk an inch lower in my chair. Major Broadhurst continued. Dr. Macmillan, if you will take a look at your tablet, please. I turned the tablet on and opened the only file on the desktop. I nearly coughed up soda onto the screen. As you can see in the images, the site is massive. The total building footprint measures 1,320 feet long and 1,660 feet wide in a rectangular pattern and is 560 feet tall and a 100 foot tall substructure on top for a total of 660 feet tall.

For those of you keeping score with your arithmetic, that's real damn big. The anomalous object at the top is inside what appears to be a temple or shrine and is approximately 73 feet in diameter. We believe the anomaly to be made. This is carbonite, I exclaimed. I apologize, but the electromagnetic signature is distinct. This is incredible. You have found a deposit of the rarest metal in the solar system.

What's this around it? I pointed towards the geometric building, and turned my tablet to face her. It was square, a large blot at its centre. That is the largest cigarette ever found, Dr. McMillan. Major Broadhurst's words hung in the air for a moment. That's... ...impossible. How is this done?

Who could have done this? That's why you two are here, Doctor, to help us figure out why one of the oldest buildings ever constructed by mankind Lost, but God knows how many years to the desert is built around a meteor made of the rarest element known to the solar system. Tony leaned over to me. Told you not to drink last night, Mel. I walked down a small corridor next to Tony as I flipped through image after image. Incredible, just incredible, I repeated. I could stare at these all day. Or all night, as it were. They were in your packet, Tony said. A crew of workers have been added for five months to remove the earth around the area is incredibly dangerous and we've been hit by two sandstorms since the dig started

It's been a very slow process, but the construction is a marvel of engineering When can I see it? I felt like an eager schoolboy The Corbynite I mean I don't care to play with your blocks The applications are limitless if this meter is solid it's worth tens of billions Maybe more if we had bidders Yep, not the archaeological find, not the implications of a gigantic cigarette, built by an ancient civilization. It's money.

I shot Tony an apologetic glance, and he softened his tone for me. He sighed and continued. We can go down there in a moment. I must grab something from my office. You need to change. That jacket will not suit you in the heat, my friend. We have spared dig gear in the locker room just there. He pointed to the room directly across the hall.

Freightal no longer than 5.50 per ride. So, coop new train plus for more four euro per month. On nmbs.b. The festival season is aangroken, and that beteked mudder. And so, came Kim to Amazon.com.com.

On look to a water-dict tent, a comfortable luget, oh, so, snus. And lupart print regalards. Miao. Now, he has Kim, for the modder, just like the modder man, oh, has he only mudder on? Oh yeah, only mudder.

Drowing? Gare for. Find what you need of on Amazon.com. com. A pyramid explains why they dragged you away from your rocks in Turkey. Zigarette, not pyramid, two different things. Tony walked into his office and stepped inside. When I exited the room in my standard tan t-shirt, an old hammy-down denim jewell.

jeans. Tony was not done yet. I could hear him murmur through the door to someone. Did he really leave me outside to make a call? After two minutes, he stepped back out, closed and locked his door. He wore a safari outfit and hat. He was visibly sweating. Uh, you're okay, bud? You look like me after a bad night out. I said it as lightheartedly as I could. His turn was so sudden I was worried. Fine, just feeling a bit warm in the office. He adjusted his hat-strapped, and we made our way out of the blistering heat of the Iraqi desert. We walked the short distance to the pit, which had been dug into the sand. Tony regained his composure a little as we approached. Major Broadhurst had changed from a uniform into a khaki button-down shirt and cargo pants

with matching well-worned tan combat boots. her sidearm was nestled against the right thigh and a dark brown leather drop holster which matched the large brown fedora bent to the brim. She beamed proudly with a fists on her hips as she stood near the edge of the pit. Her biceps were flexed and a brown skin glistened from applied suntan lotion.

The entire outfit vaguely reminded me of Indiana Jones. I was totally mesmerized. It's time for your nickel tour boys. Her enthusiasm was positively infectious. My hangover eased just from my energy. I peered over the side and found myself in awe. The cigarette, a monstrous temple from the ancient world,

was nearly completely excavated. The ornate carvings and colossal pillars which lined the walls were so well preserved you would have thought it was built only recently. The whole thing is built directly on bedrock. That means the 500 plus feet of it has moved over the ages, but there is little to no corrosion or degradation to the outer walls in art. It's almost like the cigarette was buried as soon as it was built.

She showed us to a crempt, rickety elevator, I resembled little more than a shark cage on a pulley system. The ride was bumpy, and I said a hell merry on two separate occasions when I thought the whole thing was going to collapse. I hadn't said a hell merry since my grandmother died. What was going on with me today? I gratefully stepped out and surveyed the excavation site. Tents scattered the ground and local workers moved sand by the wheelbarrow load from exposed

doorways and windows at the base. I spotted a large cooler and greedily consumed two bottles of water from it. Tony removed the large water bottle from his satchel and took a sip. The locals eyed me angrily. I realised too late I had committed a faux par. Standing at the base, I was truly in awe of the sheer size of the thing. It was as if a shopping mall made of sandstone and granite were as tall as a skyscraper. How's your cardio, Mal?

I'll be fine. Looks like a piece of cake. Just curious, how many steps is it to the top? Major Broadhurst answered, much to my chagrin. Just under 3,000. The staircase winds around the zigarette at various platforms. should take about 20 minutes to reach the top. I stared at her in object terror.

we haven't finished the ceremonial staircase yet. It won't be finished until Tuesday. Limber up dock. The Major patting me on the shoulder and started to climb. She quickly outpaced us both and waited at the first landing.

We followed the superstructure of winding staircase after winding staircase. It wrapped around into rooms and antechambers. Cliffs, I could not identify, lined every square inch of the walls in each room we passed through. I was fascinated, but Tony and Major Broadhurst pushed on. Nonchalant as can be about the epic tale chiseled into the walls before us.

By the time we reached the top, I felt utterly exhausted. I wanted to vomit, but I didn't even have the liquid in my stomach to dry heave. Tony handed me his bottle of water, and I took a grateful sip. sip. You should do more cardio. Come on, your rock is just in here. Major Broadhurst turned and I looked upward. The Gargantuan temple towered 100 feet above the top of the ziggurat. Arches formed into 15-foot

openings, six on each side, beckoning us forward into the inner sanctum. Paintings of gods and monsters towered over us from floor to ceiling inside. The entire room was illuminated by a soft, warm, glow. I could see a tentacle old, levelling cities and devouring people by the thousands. I saw warriors of all do battle with gigantic bird-like horrors. A monstrous creature of the abyss, a leviathan of ungodly proportions, flattened a beautiful seaside village with impunity as one surviving unlockers surveyed the devastation from a hill. A mighty city with vast temples and rings of aqueducts was smashed to ruin by a tidal wave, brought on by the wrath of an angry ocean god. Each painting came with line upon line of text in some language long dead and completely alien to me.

It was awe-inspiring. Still thinking about your shiny metal now, Malachi. Tony stepped up next to me and clasped my shoulder. This is the biggest archaeological find since King Tut. It was at this point that I realized the light towers and generators nearby were not on. The entire shrine was illuminated by something. The carbonite. It appeared to glow like it produced its own light from the inside. A certain burst of light momentarily blinded us all. Major Broadhurst answered my question before I asked it. It does that sometimes when enough people get in here.

Not sure why. I looked at it for the first time in earnest. The gargantuan ball of metallic ore sat at the centre of the room. and dwarfed us all. It was roughly spherical, with a smooth shell bearing only minor scratches and indentations. Shell, like an egg. What was that, Mel? Tony asked as I came back to reality. Nothing, just thinking aloud, I guess.

Looking back of the paintings, lining the stone walls, I saw one on the furthest wall which caught my eye. I walked over to it and looked it over. The art was carved into the wall instead of painted. It appeared much older than the rest. It was crudely chiseled into the wall instead of ornately painted. It sent shivers down my spine, which radiated through my arms and legs and waves. It depicted a nightmarish abomination of a creature, an indescribable mass of spikes and lines with a single slitted eye at its centre.

The thing was surrounded by other objects. They appeared simply as rings. as rings, stacked rings being devoured by this creature. The abomination was injured, leaking a green trail across the black backdrop of the art. It was not in a lush forest or coastal city depicted by the intricate paintings which surrounded it. The backdrop was simply black. It was a blank space muddled with the occasional dot of white or red or yellow. The creature was chased by its attackers until finally, with it bound in chains as insignificantly

humans looked on. Isn't it spectacular? Tony's voice echoed deeply in the mammoth chamber. What are these things here? These rings. Angels, Tony said. I stared him down. Angels? In their ancient depictions, angels weren't plump little babies with halos, Malachi. They were terrifying messengers and powerful warriors.

They were often depicted as stacked concentric rings with eyes and fire and blades. I remember Sunday school, Tony. This is old, very old. What's it doing with the Corbinite? It doesn't make any sense. This temple should predate any art of Judea-Christian angels by three or four thousand years. A shadow moved across the carvings. Gentlemen, your attention, if you please.

Major Broadhurst's voice had more than a hint of stress in it. Something was moving inside the corbinite. A deep rumble shook the shrine and dust rained upon us. A voice spoke to us from nowhere and yet seemingly everywhere. It was slow, weak and pained. Finally, I have been imprisoned here for so long and you have brought. My salvation. How? That's English, I stammered out. The voice seemed to rattle over and over and over, until it became painful. I could only drop to my knees as a lost the equilibrium, and the words practically banged against the side of my skull. I saw images

flashed before my eyes, scenes of a beautiful, lush landscape on fire, and a mighty river dried out as it boiled into nothing. Clouds which rained hellfire upon everything below. A mountain spewed forth volcanic ash and steam as the sun was smothered in a blanket of darkness. No, not a sun. It was an eye. A giant, lidless eye towered over the planet. Darkened clouds of ash drifted by the cat-like slit, paling in comparative size. I could hear the eyes speak like an eleventh-glenant god proclaiming its gospel. but I could not understand it all. the word salvation repeated over and over in my head.

I finally broke free of the fever dream and regained my senses. I looked up from my position on my knees and saw Tony, motionless. It was like he was not affected at all. Tony? Tony, can you hear it too? I hear it in Spanish, Tony said flatly. His voice was distorted, like he was in a... days.

Doesn't matter. The rock is talking. to go. She appeared apprehensive and a stand showed she was ready to move at a moment's notice. She was truly a woman of action. Meanwhile, I was practically crippled

on the floor. The voice came again. It was soft and loving, but weak. You found me. After all this time, I shall forever be grateful to you. I felt like I could almost

a shape move inside the Corbynite. Tony spoke up. Far braver than I felt in that moment. Who is speaking to us? Do you have a name? What is a name, but something given by others? I once held many names.

It rattled off several, each with a long, laborious breath before the next. Alack hall. Asag, the lidless flame, reaper of sorrows. I was once the mighty, the devourer of worlds. A deep, raspy, labored breath. But now, I am just the hidden one.

A deep tremor shook the ground. Fascinating, Tony said as he took a step towards the stone. Excuse me, people. The rock said it's the devour of worlds. Why are you trying to it? I'm leaving. Please. Please, don't leave me here. It has been far too long. I regained my feet and retreated with Major Broadhurst as the tremors in the shrine intensified. Tony? Time to go, old boy. But he did not move. He stood there in a trance.

He slowly walked towards the stone and reached into a satchel. Dr. Cortez, the Major shouted. Tony turned to reveal the obsidian dagger in his right hand In his left he clutched the stone serpent statue from his office He used the blade on the end to rip into his shirt He tossed it aside Rows of text were tattooed on his arms from shoulder to wrist A green cat's eye took up most of his back

Surrounded by rings of burning flames He turned to face us Blood streaked from his eyes His chest was a mountain of scar tissue laceration upon laceration built into a macabreyslay of self-mutilation. He slid his chest open with a dagger and blood poured from the wound. What the hell, Tony? I tried to run to him, but Major Broadhurst forcibly dragged me away by my arm, away from him, and towards the nearest open archway.

Salvation, Tony said, as he held the statue to his spurt and chest wound. The blood poured over it, and the corbite gloat softly and steadily. He raised his arm and slammed the knife into... The shell, I whispered slowly. It is an egg. It shattered like glass and a vacuum sucked the air from the room. Each of us was dragged off our feet. A silent pause.

Then an explosion sent tiny shards of carbonite in all directions. The sand and debris settled as I crawled in my hands and knees towards the body in front of me. Tony's lifeless corpse. his lifeless corpse was mangled. His right arm was gone from the elbow down. Both of his eyes were full of metallic shards. A three feet footpiece of shrapnel had penetrated his chest and skewered him. He was dead, but he was smiling. A small trickle of blood ran from between a gap where his teeth used to be under the stone floor. Major Broughthurst stood over me and helped me to my feet. visibility in the room was near zero.

A voice boomed in the cavernous shrine. It was so deafening I could hear it over the ringing in my ears. Finally. I dared a glance back. An eye, the size of a car, stared at me from the distance. A grotesque bubbling biomass of fleshy tendrils

expanded from the back of the green lidless eye. Each tendrils split. and sprouted new ones, endlessly. When they each large enough size, they slapped together in a brutal, bloody fusion to form larger tendrils. Gallons of green blood soaked to every wall and surface of the shrine.

The pink fles intertwined into one massive strand and slammed to the floor. The eyeball attached at the end like the face and a pale worm. The thing sprouted wings and claws and teeth. Each shape And merge with Only to be absorbed

Into the body Some new Of the locomotion The thin membrane of Split and tore open As muscle tissues sprouted And entwined themselves together To form a heavily muscleed

serpentine form Cantra's tumours formed And burst in seconds Revealing bony armour plates A thunderous screech And two wings ruptured forth From the back

And rapidly expanded A gush of blood from under the A torched gretus' Afts formed and extended. The body finally grew to match the size of the eye as it now resembled a form like a colossal wing serpent. Each wing scraped the roof

of the 100 foot ceiling and smashed stone as it continued to stretch. The mouth opened like a hideous flower. Four separate jaws, each lined with dozens of stubby, blunt teeth. The orifice, which I can only vaguely say resembled a throat, spewed a froth that burned the splattered

the ground. The single eye sat on the bulbous pod at the top of the serpent's 30-foot skull, which had no skin left to cover it. The thing turned to face us, and, in my head, I could hear the voice speak again. Salvation has come at last. A strong grip on my left arm, and I was yanked into daylight. The major dragged me down the stairs three at a time. I struggled mightily to keep up.

The walls of the ziggarette shook as the ground roared in protest at the presence of an ancient evil awakened once more. The entire temple exploded in its rubble. A dust cloud cascaded down the sides of the cigarette and enveloped us completely. She never stopped, though. Her iron grip on my arm keeping me going. As we ran, I could hear the rush of air overhead and the billowing of sand as mighty. wings took flight. I truly have no idea how we should have been crushed by stone or suffocated by dust. Instead, we reached the barren earth at the bottom of the ziggurat in relative safety.

The workers had fled and the dig site was abandoned. We wrote the elevator back up in complete silence. We slowly crept above the dust cloud, trapped in the pit surrounding the ziggurat. As we broke free of it at 300 feet, the sun shone down upon the ruin. The temple was gone. Pillars was smashed and nearly a quarter of the structure itself was damaged beyond recognition. Flex of corpnite shimmered in the sunlight on the ground and all around the ziggard itself. The abomination was nowhere to be seen. When we reached our base camp, the entire building was in a frenzy.

Major Broadhurst made several calls and hurried tones. She said something about radar tracking and space telemetry, phrases which I didn't understand. My brain couldn't even comprehend everything which had happened. My best friend was dead, and that thing, it had been in my head. To this day, I have no idea where it is gone. I hope and pray it returned to whichever hellish world it came from. I can tell you, I have not consumed, I've not consumed, I've not consumed, four days per week, I don't play dams and distress well, and the major,

or should I say colonel now, reminds me of it every time we speak. I'm meeting her for coffee tomorrow, which is an upgrade on every relationship I've held for the last five years. But I don't sleep as much as I used to. I still hear the voice in my head sometimes. I still see it in my dreams. I can hear the words the entity spoke to me in my vision, much clearer. It is I that sends the hordes.

It is I who summons the plague. Death comes on swift wings. Salvation is here.