Unknowing, I Sink

By Timothy G. Huguenin

Fans of Aickman and Ligotti are sure to enjoy this strange and unsettling novella from Timothy G. Huguenin. Sink into what award-winning author Nick Roberts (The Exorcist's House) calls "a gelatinous pit of abject horror"—and see if you can pull yourself out.

Julian finds a summer job cleaning a mansion belonging to Mr V, an eccentric recluse obsessed with arcane knowledge. The man's grotesque, swollen appearance, caused by an unknown condition that keeps him bedridden, initially disturbs Julian. And those creepy terra cotta statues lurking in the shadows don't help to ease his nerves. But the rich old man wants to pay him more than he ever imagined…

While Julian struggles to understand his new employer's discursive monologues, a dreadful ache grows inside his chest. Where has this feeling come from? How is it that a statue's blank stare can cloud his mind? And what bizarre and horrifying secrets will he discover when Mr V's esoteric philosophies become manifest?

 

"Julian's new employer has a 'condition'… Unknowing, I Sink is a wonderfully strange and gripping novella, imbued with creeping dread and a strong sense of the grotesque. Highly recommended."
— Matthew M. Bartlett, author of The Stay-Awake Men & Other Unstable Entities

"Dread-inducing and memorable."
— Christi Nogle, author of Beulah and The Best of Our Past, the Worst of Our Future

"Unknowing, I Sink will drag you into a gelatinous pit of abject horror. The dread begins on page one and balloons until its shocking finale. With Huguenin's literary mastery and unapologetic weirdness, he's our Southern-fried Clive Barker."
— Nick Roberts, award-winning author of The Exorcist's House and Anathema

"A chilling inferno of the strange and unsettling. Huguenin's story quietly creeps while burrowing deep into your grey matter. . . . Small but mighty, [it] will blow your doors off. . . . Very relatable with a relentless storyline."
— Brian James Lewis, Damaged Skull Writer & Reviewer

"One of the most literary horror books that I've picked up in the past year. . . . If you're looking for creeping horror with a satisfying twist and excellent writing, pick up Unknowing, I Sink."
— Daphne Strasert, HorrorAddicts.net
 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Timothy G. Huguenin
• Release date: Oct 1, 2022
• ISBN: 9798224690565

Timothy G. Huguenin

Timothy G. Huguenin writes horror from his home in the Allegheny Mountains of West Virginia. He is the author of the novels When the Watcher Shakes and Little One. His short fiction has appeared in various publications, including Vastarien, Dim Shores Presents Vol. 2, and Tales to Terrify. His weird novella, Unknowing, I Sink was published in October 2020 by Independent Legions Publications, and his third novel, Schafer, is coming soon from Bloodshot Books. He is an Active Member of the Horror Writers Association. You can find out more about him and his writing by visiting https://tghuguenin.com/

Book preview

"Julian’s new employer has a ‘condition’… Unknowing, I Sink is a wonderfully strange and gripping novella, imbued with creeping dread and a strong sense of the grotesque. Highly recommended."

— Matthew M. Bartlett, author of The Stay-Awake Men & Other Unstable Entities

Dread-inducing and memorable.

— Christi Nogle, author of Beulah and The Best of Our Past, the Worst of Our Future

"Unknowing, I Sink will drag you into a gelatinous pit of abject horror. The dread begins on page one and balloons until its shocking finale. With Huguenin’s literary mastery and unapologetic weirdness, he’s our Southern-fried Clive Barker."

— Nick Roberts, award-winning author of The Exorcist’s House and Anathema

A chilling inferno of the strange and unsettling. Huguenin’s story quietly creeps while burrowing deep into your grey matter. . . . Small but mighty, [it] will blow your doors off.

— Brian James Lewis, Damaged Skull Writer & Reviewer

"One of the most literary horror books that I’ve picked up in the past year. . . . If you’re looking for creeping horror with a satisfying twist and excellent writing, pick up Unknowing, I Sink."

— Daphne Strasert, HorrorAddicts.net

First trade paperback and ebook editions of Unknowing, I Sink were published in 2020 by Independent Legions Publishing, with copyediting by Jess Landry

Copyright © 2020 by Timothy G. Huguenin

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.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

This edition published in 2022

Cover design by Ben Baldwin

For Dustin

Unknowing, I Sink

a strange and horrifying novella

Timothy G. Huguenin

2022

tghuguenin.com

Contents

Reviews

Copyright

Dedication

Title Page

Unknowing, I Sink

Author's Note

About the Author

Check out these other books!

∞

Julian stood on the cracked concrete path, chewing slowly on a leaf he had picked from a young sassafras growing in the high grass next to him. This was the first time he had seen Mr V’s mansion, despite living fifteen minutes down the mountain. To a poor, small-town kid with not quite sixteen years of life experience and no driver’s license to his name, the mildewing brick monstrosity before him was a wonder. Six Tuscan columns, taller than Julian’s house down in the valley, seemed to function more as soldiers standing guard than weight-bearing pillars. The overhang they bore obscured the front door in its mid-morning shadow. A brass hawk’s head glared over the entrance.

He didn’t realize he was sweating until a breeze cooled his forehead. He wiped it with the back of his hand. His intestines felt jumbled.

First day of my first job, he thought. Probably everyone feels this way.

He looked over his shoulder down the long driveway, even though he knew his mom had already left.

A vision of next year: left hand on the wheel of his very own car, right hand on Stacey Cochran’s thigh. Of course, Stacey Cochran had never given Julian the time of day, and whatever second-hand rusty sedan he might be able to afford as a result of this job wasn’t likely to impress her—but hey, it was his fantasy.

Okay, here we go. That car won’t pay for itself.

He faced the house and forced himself up the steps. As he lifted his knuckles toward the door, an intercom crackled and made him jump.

Did your father tell you my rule about cell phones?

At first, Julian was too surprised to speak. After a couple seconds, he forced a nod.

I mean it, son. If you so much as check it for the time, you’ll be gone. I’m a private man, and I have no wish for any of my activities or possessions to be plastered up on social media for all the world to see.

He nodded again.

Okay, come in. I’ll unlock it.

He heard the deadbolt disengage. A quick glance up revealed a tiny camera tucked discreetly under the hook of the hawk’s beak.

If I was going to pay money for somebody to stand there and gape, I’d have bought another statue.

Julian looked down, ashamed at the impression he was making on his new boss. Sorry, Mr V.

Fine. Just open the door.

He entered. The high-ceilinged foyer was dimly lit by a dusty chandelier with only three working bulbs. A staircase led to the second-floor landing, shrouded by darkness. Cobwebs hung in corners and shuddered from the disturbance brought by the door’s opening and closing. Curls of peeling floral-print wallpaper made him think of fingers beckoning.

Come; smell our roses. Smell our old garden’s decay.

Take the hall to your right.

Mr V’s voice sounded from above. He looked up at the landing balcony, but he saw nobody.

Well?

Julian hustled down the hall.

That next door on your left, that’s where the cleaning supplies are.

The whole house must have been wired up with intercom speakers and cameras. Even in the utility closet (which was as big as his kitchen at home), Mr V continued to instruct him until he had gathered all the necessary materials.

You’ll start with the kitchen. Get it good enough to prepare lunch. After my meal, you can clean it more thoroughly.

Mr V got him started, but his direction lessened as Julian worked. After forty-five minutes, he hardly spoke. Julian took this as a good sign, that his work so far was pleasing enough that he didn’t need to be micromanaged. As he scrubbed grease and rust off of the gas range’s cast iron grates, he wondered if the relative silence meant he was no longer being watched. Had Mr V fallen asleep? Was he only checking the cameras once in a while to see Julian’s progress? Or did he continue to look over him without comment? The thought of the old man silently leering at Julian’s image on a screen was somehow worse than being constantly told how to execute minor tasks.

He stepped back from his work for a second and smeared his slick forearm across a heavy sweat that had gathered on his brow. Apparently, his employer didn’t believe in air conditioning, even in the summer.

He reached into his pocket to check his cell phone, then thought better