In the Dark Crypts of Oblivion

By Nigel Elfleda

Set in a world where people refuse to believe anything supernatural and choose instead to close their eyes, the characters in the stories are on dark quests for answers, quests that may not always end well. This is a collection of short horror stories, which all take place within the same universe, the characters from different stories may meet or hear from each other's adventures.Horrors unfold!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Nigel Elfleda
• Release date: Apr 29, 2012
• ISBN: 9780646574844

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In the Dark Crypts of Oblivion

Book One

Collection of Short Horror Stories

By Nigel Elfleda

Smashwords Edition,

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In the Dark Crypts of Oblivion, Book One

Copyright 2012 Nigel Elfleda

All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof

may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever

without the express written permission of the publisher

except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

Contact: [e-mail]

ISBN: 978-0-646-57484-4

Electronic Edition:

Smashwords Edition

Cover Design by: Mahtab Danaee

This Book is Dedicated to

Every Nightmare that Visited me at Night,

Every Ancient Myth or Legend that Occupied my Mind,

Every Wondrous Tale, True or Fake, that I was Told,

Every Moment of Imagination

That Induced Fear into My Heart

And above all

My Loving Mother

Table of Contents

Preface

Dark Servitude

The Crow Lord

Where the Ravens Mourn

A Shattered Revelation

Elegy for the Dead Fairy

The Friend

The Sealed Fate

Black Reverence

Children of Inferno

From The Nether Realm

Preface

The human psychology is comprised of many different, sometimes even contradicting emotions. Each emotion has a stimulus or a trigger, be it internal or external, that commands a response.

I believe that a healthy mind demands for each of these feelings or emotions to be satisfied, and this is not limited only to the positive emotions, such as happiness. The less pleasant emotions need to be manifested too, of course under safe and controlled conditions. As strange as this may sound, in my opinion it will lead to maintaining some good emotional balance and breaking the monotony of life. This is where scary or tragic stories get their appeal from.

Reading a good horror story is like riding on a roller coaster, or bungee jumping; it gives you the thrills and excites you. A horror story momentarily makes you forget that you are safely in your home and are merely reading a book. It will capture your mind and drag you into the writer’s imaginary world, where you will meet fictional characters and accompany them on their dark journeys through the course of the story. Through them, you will experience situations that you may never want to experience in real life, but you will also see the dark and twisted beauty of it.

If well written, the story takes some time to fade from your memory, and you realize that you have unintentionally brought bits and fragments of that imaginary universe back with you to the real world. So sometimes you find yourself carefully looking around you when you are alone in your room, as if expecting the monster or the deranged killer in the story to jump out at you from some hidden corner. Often you keep thinking about what happened in the story, because you found some parts of it, for example the ending, particularly disturbing.

The words on the page were merely instructions, a guide for your imagination to recreate that fictional world according to the writer’s blueprints. The book was simply a medium for your mind to simulate the feelings that you would have in those frightening situations, and it worked too. As a side effect, your mind would every now and then imagine things on its own. Even after you have finished reading the story, those instructions are still in your subconscious, programming your mind to continue imagining things and in turn getting more thrills.

Those are the effects of a decent horror story. I have experienced all those things, for example after reading some of the works of H. P. Lovecraft, the master of horror, and many other excellent horror writers, all of whom have inspired me. But the main thing is that we, at least some of us enjoy those effects. That is why we go on to read the next scary story after recovering from the last one.

Inducing fear is a delicate art which takes many forms; literatures, films, plays, computer games, fantasy artworks, and even music. I have loved horror in all of its forms for the most part of my life, I have been both scared and fascinated with it. I have enjoyed reading many good stories by many different writers who employ different means to create different forms of fear.

The book before you is a collection of ten short stories which I hope will give you some of the joy that other horror stories have given me. In The Dark Crypts of Oblivion is a series of books, each one a collection of short stories, with all the stories taking place in the same universe, where characters from different stories may meet each other and have more bizarre adventures. This is the first volume in the series, and the rest will soon come too.

Nigel Elfleda

Dark Servitude

Victor looked down at the small, private tropical island as he flew above it.

It’s just like a piece of paradise on earth, he thought. Green and yellow surrounded by blue. I’m surprised Howard never invited me here before.

He lowered the altitude, preparing to land on the airstrip. There was a driver with a white limo nearby, waiting for him and a few minutes later Victor was riding comfortably in it to his friend’s villa. After passing through a tunnel of lush shrubberies and arching trees, the front gate of the villa became visible.

The very size of the place was impressive. It looked quite old too; the hands of time had definitely touched the tall pillars, the walls and the gate. Despite all the beautiful plants and the elegant exterior decorations of the villa, Victor thought that there was an eerie feel to the place, an ambience of decay perhaps.

His friend, Howard Frayn, was waiting for him inside. Howard was very old, very frail, so emaciated that Victor was surprised that he could still walk and talk normally. His hair, as white as snow, was combed back, his thin shoulders bent, his wrinkled face clean shaven and his pale grey eyes eager.

Victor my boy, Long time no see. he said happily.

Hello Howard, nice to see you too, Victor said. You look, eh, … good. I’m sorry I didn’t get a chance to call you for a while, but I have been pretty busy recently, specially these last few weeks.

Hmm, the same industrious youth I got to know five years ago, Howard said. He looked at Victor, half-praising him. Always working your fingers to the bone.

Yes, well … Victor smiled. But now I’m here, and thanks a lot for the invitation by the way, this is a very nice place.

I’m sure you will find it very special. The servants will take your things to your room. In the mean time, how about having some cold, refreshing drink?

They sat by the pool, sipping whiskey and talking. Howard talked enthusiastically, intending to entertain his guest as best as he could, but Victor was thinking. How old was Howard? It was funny that he had never thought about it before. Howard already looked over eighty, perhaps even ninety, when they had first met. But his age didn’t matter; he was a nice person and seemed to be interested in Victor and Victor’s old friend and former partner, Pierre.

Victor and Pierre always thought of Howard as a fatherly figure and a mentor. Victor felt that Howard saw him like a son. The fact that Victor had lost his father at an early age and Howard didn’t have any family, had made the two close friends, despite their age differences.

It had been some time since they had last met, and the change that Victor was now seeing in his friend’s face was significant, but what concerned him more was that he felt Howard was afraid or at least worried about something, although he was putting on a happy face. Victor however, didn’t mention anything about that, thinking that such a rich and powerful person could have a lot in his mind.

****

The night was warm and humid. The air conditioner hummed softly, yet Victor couldn’t sleep; he felt uncomfortable in his big room. He rolled and again tried to sleep, but couldn’t. He had a strange feeling about the place, something he couldn’t describe. The room, the whole villa was silent, like the silence of the hunter getting ready to bounce on the prey. Every now and then, the sound of the air conditioner seemed to become silent too.

There were many pictures hanging from the walls and he felt that the people in them were gazing at him. He wanted to open the windows, but something inside him told him not to do that, not to even go near the windows. The silence was intolerable, maddening.

He got up. The bed made a loud noise and for a moment he was frozen in place, as if he were afraid to break the silence. But then he got a grip on himself, went straight to the light switch and turned it on. His fears vanished along with the darkness. He went to the windows, he was still a little worried about what he might see behind them, but he took a deep breath and pulled the red curtains aside.

It was so dark outside that at first he could barely see anything, but then he saw the trees standing like giant watchmen on the vast green field. The stars were shining brightly in the cloudless night around the crescent moon. He looked at the beauty of the still night for a while and decided to go outside for a walk, so he began changing his clothes and a few minutes later he was out of the villa, walking towards a nearby hill.

The glamour of the island was captivating even in the night. But he still felt that he was being watched, it made his hair stand on end. Anxious, he looked around him once every few seconds. Maybe it will help if I walk faster, Victor thought. Suddenly, something moved in the darkness. He stood and gazed in that direction. Yes, there was something moving nearby, perhaps more than one thing. He quickly took a step back, but the moving things slowly moved towards him, almost floating. Victor couldn’t see what they were, but could sense their quick, predator like movements.

Oh shit! he said, running away from them. What the hell is going on? Am I hallucinating? What are those things?

No matter how fast he ran, the moving shadows caught up with him. More shadows joined the chase, and were now all around him. Moving on the ground, flying in the sky, being everywhere and nowhere, the pursuers came closer. Victor thought he could hear the sound of large wings flapping. He was running out of breath, he realized how far he had gone from the villa. All around him he could only see green masses of the hills, and the oppressive darkness filled with moving shadows.

Victor got to the top of the hill and suddenly fell to the ground, shocked at what he had seen. There in front of him, was a freshly dug pit; an empty grave prepared for someone’s burial. He couldn’t believe what he saw. The shadows came closer, closer, a strong cold wind blew and he closed his eyes, trembling. He was for a moment overwhelmed by the dark, unseen presence around him and then, the feeling was gone.

He slowly opened his eyes, there was no movement nearby, the night wasn’t menacing anymore. Had he been imagining things? Maybe, but the empty grave was still right in front of him, what was it for? Before he could think about it someone put his hand on his shoulder, startling him.

What are you doing here? It was Howard with a lantern in his hand. I went to your room to check on you, but you weren’t there or anywhere else in the house, you got me worried.

I … I just needed some fresh air, that’s all, Victor said, standing up.

Are you alright? The old man asked. You’re all covered in sweat.

Yes, I’m … I’m fine, Victor said. They started walking back slowly. But I have a terrible headache.

You’ll be fine. Howard said. Don’t wander by yourself out here, especially at night. The island is a little bigger than it looks ...

What was that grave for? Victor asked, still panting. That was a grave on the hill, wasn’t it?

And it can be a long time before anyone can find you. Howard said, perhaps he didn’t hear Victor. The young man didn’t say anything else, the sight of the villa was a relief to him for a moment but then he remembered the uncomfortable feeling he had inside. That cold wind had carried with it a stench that had dulled his mind, something sinister was in the wind. It had blown from the forest.

****

A few days passed. Victor was very well entertained, almost forgetting about the frightful night and the grave. Howard would never leave him alone for a minute, telling Victor that he’d be a bad host if he did. Victor really appreciated this much hospitability, but on the other hand he could clearly see that the old man had something in his mind that was eating him, something he probably wanted to tell Victor but wasn’t sure how to do it, if he wanted to do it at all. More than once Victor had caught glimpse of him deep in thought, babbling something to himself under his breath. He had seen Howard gazing at the different luxuries of the villa when he thought Victor wasn’t looking. The old man then smelled the palms of his wrinkled, boney hands, and would look out of a window or gaze at the hills from the veranda.

Tell me about your business, Victor, Howard said on the evening of the seventh day. By the looks of it I can already tell that you still have trouble making the ends meet.

Well, that’s right, Victor said. But I still have hope, things have become better, and I kinda like my new job.

Flying the Goddamn tourists here and there, I see, Howard said smirking. "My dear boy, you deserve better. Of course, I admire your attitude, but sometimes it will take more than just hard work to make a fortune. There are rare opportunities that won’t ever come back if you miss them. You know, this island was a deserted, forgotten place when I first came here. I was young then, younger than you are. My friends and I had heard about the mines that were here. I was very poor back then, but always had high hopes. So as soon as I heard about the mines I gathered some of my friends, who