Dronerama 1997

The evening mists swirled eerily through the darkened streets of the Old City. The weird alien geometry of the Abbey loomed mysteriously out of the fog. With a deep sense of foreboding, we entered. In the vast echoing depths of the cavernous hall, we found ourselves surrounded by nameless maddened squamous things with shapes too unspeakably blasphemous to describe. After we had greeted Mad Dog and his cohorts we toured the exhibits, which were so terrifyingly good that Gary at once screamed and fainted. When he recovered his senses, he was able only to whimper "I am inadequate - this is skill beyond any human mortal!" We crawled away to our bed, where we were tormented by dreams of things too loathsome to imagine.

Next morning, we moved like the undead, joining the long lines of grey-haired damned, who stood waiting endlessly for sustenance.

That day was full of horrors. Our brains were tortured by the necessity of standing in judgement over the many creatures that surrounded us, each one, it seemed, more horribly excellent than the one before. The men from the Stars descended upon us, and, as if drawn by a strange power, the shapes swarmed into a side chamber. Many and most curious were the rituals performed within. Hideous markings were scratched upon paper, crumpled parchments passed from hand to hand, cards with secret devices shrieked in agony, and the Star beings cackled with glee. Then the Great All Powerful One rose up before us, and his loathsome minions brought him offerings. Nameless things were held aloft, and the creatures that crawled writhing at the foot of the great lectern fought each other, to give their very souls for the ghastly prizes. The imps squealed, and were drawn away by she whose name is Killer, to perform their own secret rituals far from the knowledge of Man.

Those whose offerings to the Great All Powerful One were adjudged to be the mightiest met with the gruesome acclaim of the vast necrophagous multitude, and were given ancient scrolls with eldritch writings and terrible rugose homunculi.

Then came the calling of the runes. The masses shrieked and gibbered as they waved their foul scraps of ancient vellum, covered in hideous symbols, and ran to the great altar to take their chosen horrors and scamper away.

But the worst was to come. The Mighty Inquisitors of Drone, those who walked in black, for such is the nameless evil in their souls, yes, even the hooded one, lashed our minds with their nightmarish words, forced us to don strange garments, and enact ghastly rituals, while a device from the nether pits wailed its unearthly keening song. Suddenly, I found myself encased in a black substance that moulded itself to every curve of my body. Gary and I escaped to our cell where he turned into something reptilian with many tentacles.

Next morning, as we rose from our troubled slumbers, the ruined heads of the near dead stared through sightless eyes over caldrons of flesh and fat, which they ate with trembling, taloned hands. We gathered our few pathetic belongings, and, howling with terror, made our escape.

Linda Stratmann

(Apologies to H P Lovecraft)