The Dunwich Nightmare

By Robert Poyton

A savage murder on lonely Dunwich beach draws DS Marcus Hinds into an investigation that threatens his sanity. Assisted  by local reporter Suzy Bainbridge  and conspiracy theorist Bob Couzens, Hinds discovers the links between a secret facility, Sizewell Nuclear Power Plant and Nazi occult experiments. 

Meanwhile, somet

• Language: English
• Publisher: Cutting Edge
• Release date: Oct 13, 2017
• ISBN: 9780995645479

Book preview

THIS IS AN INNSMOUTH GOLD BOOK

ISBN: 978-0-9956454-5-5  Paperback

ISBN: 978-0-9956454-7-9    E-book

First published in REMNANTS Fenland Tales of Horror & Haunting 2017

Copyright@ 2017 R Poyton

All rights reserved.

The moral right of the author has been asserted.

No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical

means including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the author.

The only exception is by a reviewer, who may quote short excerpts in a review.

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either products

of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or

locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Cover design by Innsmouth Gold

Published by Cutting Edge on behalf of Innsmouth Gold.

www.innsmouthgold.com

Lovecraftian inspired music and art

www.innsmouthgold.selz.com

Robert Poyton

www.robpoyton.co.uk

ALSO BY ROBERT C POYTON

REMNANTS - FENLAND TALES OF HORRORS & HAUNTINGS

THE DUNWICH TRILOGY

THE DUNWICH NIGHTMARE

THE DUNWICH CRISIS

THE WOLF WHO WOULD BE KING SERIES

WOLF IN SHADOWS

WOLF IN CHAINS

WOLF IN THE NORTH

ASSAULT TEAM 5 SERIES

NAYLOR’S WAR

"Not in the spaces we know, but between them..

they walk serene and primal,

undimensioned and to us unseen."

― H.P. Lovecraft

PROLOGUE

Light, so much light... and space! He stands, arms outstretched, and circles slowly on the spot. No walls. No locks. No pain.  He squats, the white gown dragging in the mud.  Tilting his head back he sniffs a scent… clean, fresh. It draws him on, away from the Place. He moves slowly at first then, as the excitement of freedom fills his body, he begins to run, to leap, to bound, sometimes upright, sometimes on all fours.

His breath is ragged now, in great bursts but he does not slow or falter. Mud and mire cover him and he rejoices in its feel. A light drizzle falls, he opens his mouth wide to taste it. Every sensation fires him anew… he is free!

The land is crisscrossed with small creeks, icy cold. He crosses them heedlessly, drawn on by the scent. Then, up and over a small rise, he sees it, flat and grey in the dawn light. Shining, whispering softly on the narrow strip of beach, the sea. To each side it stretches, further than his eyes can see. He is drawn towards it, crunching pebbles underfoot.

A distant memory flutters at the back of his mind. A place like this, laughter, warm sun, people… and Other of course, he has always been there. He goes to that space in his mind. He allows the sights, sounds and smells to flood his being so that Other may also experience them.        I will be back for you, Other he promises.  A sound snaps him back to the now. An animal, barking, snarling. He turns to face a large dog, hackles raised, that cowers six feet from him.

Rocky, come here! Rocky! Get back here,  you bugger!        

A figure emerges through the light dawn mist.

Sorry, mate, the man smiles and waves a lead towards the snarling dog. He’s friendly really. Don’t worry, I’ll put him back on the-

The man stops as he takes in the figure in front of him. The tattered gown, spattered in filth, the eyes shining white in a mud-covered face. The figure draws itself up to its full height, looming over him. The man gives a cry and falls to his knees, arms crossed in front of his face as if to blot out the sight.

The man looks like one of the ones that hurt him! But now he is free! Now he can hurt them!  As the dog whimpers, wheels and then runs, the tall figure places a cold, bony hand on each side of the man’s head, tilting his face up towards his own. The man’s last sight is of insanely glowing eyes and jaws that keep opening… opening...

CHAPTER 1

And we can say, with confidence, that we believe the last person to see the victim alive was the murderer. Detective Sergeant Hinds winced inwardly as the words left his mouth. His first major press conference and he was making a real mess of it.

There were a few titters in the audience. His boss, Detective Inspector McCauliffe, took off his glasses and squeezed the bridge of his nose. Only the vivacious red-head Suzy, from The Ipswich Star, looked sympathetic.

Any details on the victim? asked a reporter at the back.

        Yes, we can confirm he is James Watling, age 62. A local man, widower, living alone. His family have been informed, of course. Mr Watling’s body was discovered at approximately 7.45am after a local fishermen saw the deceased’s dog, er, he glanced at his notes, Rocky, in an agitated state on the beach near to Dunwich.

Cause of death? asked the same