The Terror Under the Rue Morgue

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The hateful and delighted high-pitched squeals followed me in the darkness.

I had sought my escape under the Parisian catacombs instead I had discovered an ancient secret. Under the streets filled with artisans and the air which was thickly scented with coffee and cognac. Thousands of red eyes lurked and waited for the opportunity to feats upon human flesh.

I moved blindly through the unending maze, my hands slapping the wall to my left. My legs begin to tire and I forced myself to recall how my pursuers tore my companion to shreds. They tore at the flesh around his legs. Their sharp teeth gnawing through his garments, the scent and sight of his life blood seemed to drive them into a greater frenzy.

I stood horrified, too shocked to be able to help. His share of the gold from our latest and most daring robbery tumbled from his pockets into the filthy waters below. His screams intensified as the rats severed the delicate tendons in his feet. Forced to his knees, he attempted to steady himself with his hands.

A mistake.

In that moment, the rats seemed to multiply and swarm over his wrists. The weight of the mass of their sleek, black bodies pulling him downwards.

I was finally able to tear myself away from the thrashing mess that had been Pierre as I saw a Rat burst through his head like it was a piece of rotten fruit. The sheer force of the beast's entry through his skull dislodged his eyeball and it hung by its optic nerves.

This forced recall and the fear of a similar impending fate hanging over me, convinced my legs to work faster. I ignored the pain blossoming in my chest, the burning sensation which signaled exhaustion also was the harbinger of my doom.

The space between the walls grew smaller and the scant light from my makeshift torch reflected against the wetness of the walls. I dimly understood that I was being herded to some unknown location. Far from being mindless beasts, these creatures were planning my destruction as if it suited some purpose.

The walls narrowed and I felt that I had reached some focal point. At that moment, I turned, the Rats who had been pursuing me, stood a few meters away. They had completely blocked the path back and watched expectantly with their glowing and demonic eyes.

In the quietness of the tunnel, the noise of something shuffling towards me was magnified.

Turning my head, I saw a misshapen thing take halting steps towards me. It's body seemed to be comprised of several Rats melded together. It had three heads which were as malformed as its body. One was skull like in its features, another seemed to be a dead weight and hung like a tumor, bobbing along with this thing's steps. Its primary head was the most striking and had such a definition of features that it almost resembled a man.

My sanity finally left me and I gibbered uncontrollably, entreating my long dead parents to save me, for the saints and the good Christ to intervene or for this hulking and shambling monster to just go away.

Still it lumbered forward, chittering and sighing as if it's body was inflated with air from a bellow pump.

I write this as my last testimony, a vain comfort for no one shall venture here. Most of my body has been consumed by these creatures to whom I have been prisoner for a length of time which feels like weeks. They have been careful and selective about which parts to consume. Starting with my feet, crawling over my face and tearing off the sweetmeats of my nose and ears. I have been left an eye and a hand with which to inscribe these words on this wall using my fingernails.

There are rumors of Gods above but I write this in evidence of the reality of the terrible hunger of the God below. It resides under Paris and holds court over those whose folly causes them to stray under the pavements in search of the hidden things.

They approach and I know with certainty that this is the 'Last Supper'. Goodbye Maurice and Jeanette.

Interview

Dr. Chris McAuley - StokerVerse and Stoker & McAuley Productions - July 2022