For those who are fans of H.P. Lovecraft you will find a flavor in this story to his horror.
HAVEN OF HORROR
Jeff and Karen were recently married. Shortly after their marriage Jeff was offered a better job than he had at the time with better pay and he accepted. Now they needed to move. With great anticipation they now were on a road trip to explore the area which would be their new home. Jeff loved wandering down roads he had never traveled, and for him this trip was a treat. A new area to be visited ripe for exploration.
As they drove along, not really sure where they were, Karen said, “I’m tired and hungry. Let’s stop at the next town for some rest and food.” They had been on the road for several days driving from California to Pennsylvania. Today, they had been driving for ten hours and they both needed rest and food.
Jeff spied what looked like a seldom used road, “Let’s go down that road. It must lead to somewhere.”
Karen looked at him as if to say, ‘Give me a break’ for it looked like it would lead to nowhere. The newness of marriage had not yet dissolved, but it was getting there.
Karen glanced at the maps they had brought along, “Jeff, this road is not on the map!”
Jeff’s response was, “Great.” Karen just shook her head. And off they went down an unmapped road hoping to find food and perhaps lodging for the night as the sky was steadily darkening the landscape. He looked at Karen and wondered if the stop would lead to ‘cuddling’ – and perhaps more. He wondered how long those episodes would last. He had heard stories.
With Karen constantly complaining about how tired and hungry she was, they approached a small town. Jeff was hungry too, and ready for some nighttime activity. As they entered the town it was as if they were visiting a page out of history. There was not a modern structure. It was like something to a lot for filming an old movie. In the middle of town stood a gas station with only one pump. A hint of days long gone. An old guy in a chair was leaning against the building.
The old man waved and said, “Hi. Don’t see many strangers here.”
The town was Schuylkill Haven.
* * *
Schuylkill Haven, a small town not appearing on any maps, was of little value to visitors who happened upon it. In fact, the town shunned visitors until they were needed. When this occurred, the residents made the heavily rutted road to the town visible and waited for guests. Just as the town was not on maps, so was the road. The entrance to the road was usually heavily concealed for the residents liked, needed their privacy. But the road to the town was now uncovered and the people of the haven waited.
The town of Schuylkill Haven came into existence most unnaturally centuries ago. From a small hill far from any inhabitants, late in the 1600’s the town was born.
One day there was movement of the earth on the side of the hill. The bottom of the hill began to push outward forming a cavity which grew into a cave. The first residents of the town began to arrive from within.
Men, women, and children, all naked, streamed out of the newly formed fissure and studied the surroundings. At first the light nearly blinded them, but eventually they adjusted to the harsh glow of daylight.
The new arrivals were helpless in this new world. With no food or lodging they were certainly doomed. Coming to their rescue was a wandering tribe of Native Americans. With compassion for these new arrivals, they shared food with them, helped them to plant crops, hunt, construct shelters and make clothing. Eventually explores happened upon the town and were amazed to find white men in such a remote location. With the explorers came more modern methods of agriculture and more substantial lodging. Slowly a town took shape, and the residents thrived. But there was a disturbing knowledge revealed to the residents. The elders began to have a greenish tint to their skin and took on strange physical characteristics. Their heads became misshaped and enlarged with mouths wide and menacing. The residents knew they had a secret meant to be kept and concealed. Old age brought unnatural changes to the senior residents.
They wondered for an explanation on the source of this ghastly conversion. No one could mine an answer. There were legends of drawings found in the cave near the town, of beings beyond imagination. Monsters with no place in nature. From this knowledge they speculated that beyond this horrible transformation there existed a third journey to, yet another transformation. But no one could be certain of the changes awaiting the morphed. Before they managed to isolate those transformed some of the residents journeyed deeper into the cave and thought they heard distant waves crashing on some unknown shore. What did the presence of this unknown ocean mean to those transformed? Could these transformed humans be destined for another phase dependent on the ocean? And what had that to do with turning their friends and relatives into strange creatures? Were there cities on the ocean floor awaiting new residents? As if all this wasn’t enough to challenge reality, a horrible event took place. The transformed began attacking the still normal residents. Devouring some of them. The number of mutants was not great and when their threat was realized, it was no problem to repel them to the entrance of the cave. And while a force of guards stood by, a small structure was built covering the entrance with no windows and a solitary door. The residents of the town were now aware of the horror that awaited them in the future.
* * *
While filling the gas tank Jeff asked the attendant if there was any lodging in the town and he replied,
“No hotels in town. But there is a house that will rent out rooms and proceeded
to give them directions.
Tired and hungry, they found the house and were greeted by a kindly woman, who guaranteed a room and dinner. Jeff asked why this town was not on the map.
The woman answered, “Because we are happy the way we are. Don’t want strangers
interfering with our lives. Yet, when strangers do come it’s an event. When
they chose to stay it’s a celebration.” Her remarks seemed strange to Jeff, but he decided not to pursue any more questions, now.
The woman studied the couple and said, “We have a local winery. Would you care for a sample – free?”
Jeff and Karen nodded, and she poured them each a glass.
Sipping, Karen said, “This is excellent wine.” But she soon noticed her vision begin to blur and she slumped to the floor. After a short time, Jeff joined her.
When they first arrived, they noticed a strange structure in the town park. It had uprights maybe seven feet tall and a crossbar of perhaps ten feet. Karen asked Jeff, “What do you think that is for?”
“I have no idea”, he said. “Can’t be for kids. Can’t be for anyone.”
Now they had the answer. They were hung suspended from the structure by the wrists, naked.
Jeff screamed, “What the hell is going on. Where are the police?”
An old man approached them and said, “I’m the police. What seems to be the problem?”
Jeff saw that something about the man wasn’t quite right. It was his face. It appeared a little ‘wrong’.
Jeff yelled, “Are you fucking blind?”
The sheriff, in a garbled voice replied, “Our cloistered friends are about to have a party and you, you could say, will be the guests of honor.”
Jeff, not understanding the sheriff’s response began to scream every curse he knew. While all Karen could do was softly weep.
As the sheriff slowly walked away a siren sounded. All the residents who were outside hurried to their houses. Upon entering the town, Jeff observed a small building, windowless with a single door. The door slowly opened, and Jeff could not believe the spectacle approaching them. Some walked on two, some on four limbs. They were hideous, of human size, but that was where all resemblance to a human ended. They were green with white underbellies. The head resembled that of a frog but with a stark difference, a mouth containing sharp rows of teeth. Above the grotesque mouth was a pair of blunted nostrils. Above the nostrils was a pair of eyes, knowing eyes. Intelligent eyes. Their legs ended in webbed feet. On what appeared to be arms were distorted hands with sharp claws.
The ungodly mass began to make their way to Jeff and Karen, looking predatory and surrounded the naked couple. A hideous scream exited those misshapen mouths. Then they attacked. Horrible screams came from the couple, then suddenly ceased. The beasts were a mad blur of feeding frenzy. Once done with their meal they departed to the enclosure from which they came leaving behind two hanging skeletons.
***
Mark and Candice, along with their three teenage children were on a summer vacation hiking and camping. Mark had been observing the fuel gauge. When he saw a small road off the main, he told the family, “We’re a little low on fuel, and if the road leads to a town it must have a gas station.” He carefully maneuvered his SUV down the rutted, potholed road. After not too long he said, “I told you. there’s a town.” He was proud of himself for his decisions were usually wrong about directions. And when he did decide which way to go, one of the family would chime in, “Remember when you …”
Mark surveyed the town and was right. There was a gas station. But to his surprise it had only one pump, unusual for this day and age. On closer observation, the town looked like something out of a time warp. When he drove into the station, he saw an old man in a rickety chair leaning against the building. Mark waved to the old man, who got out of his chair and slowly drifted over to the SUV.
“How you doin’? the old man asked. “Need some gas?”
Mark answered, “Yes,” and didn’t bother to say what type for obviously there was only one type available.
The man began to pump, and Mark wondered about the quality of the product, but he was low and had no choice.
His family had also been complaining about hunger for some time, so Mark asked the attendant, “Any place to eat around here?”
The old man scratched his chin and said, “No restaurants, but there is a family who do offer meals.” Mark got directions which led to a rustic-looking house which wasn’t a surprise for the entire town appeared rustic.
Mark rang the doorbell and was greeted by a very pleasant woman. Yet there was something about her putting Mark off. But his family was hungry.
Mark said, “The gas station attendant said that you might be able to provide us a meal. We are more than willing to pay and pay we should.”
The woman said, “Of course I can feed you,” and her mind added, And of course you will pay. But before you eat, we have a local wine we offer to tourists with the hope they like it and tell their friends. Let me give you each a sample. I guess your boy and two girls are not old enough to drink, but a taste won’t hurt them.”
The woman poured five glasses of wine, and, as they drank, the look on the faces of the family showed a new weariness.
The End
November 8, 2026 at 11:56 am
H. P. LOVECRAFT AND THE CTHULHU MYTHOS
My next post will contain a short story, Haven of Horror, which I wrote with the intent of writing something with the feeling of a story by H.P. Lovecraft. If you have never heard that name before and enjoy horror I suggest that you read some of his stories. What follows is an introduction to Lovecraft.
Born in Providence, Rhode Island in 1890 and most of his story took place in New England. He was an unusual man in both appearance with his prominent lantern-jaw chin and his approach to writing. Initially writing poetry he switched to horror. One of his primary influences for some of his stories was Edgar Allan Poe.
Through his writing, Lovecraft created a new genre of horror. A writer writing stories in the same vein as Lovecraft coined to name of the genre the Cthulhu Mythos.
Lovecraft’s popularity grew and waned during his career. Not until after his death, in poverty, at the age of 47 did his style of writing gain popularity. And that style was adopted by a host of other writers. One of his stories was made into the movie, The Dunwich Horror.
If you are a fan of horror and have not yet read any of his works I suggest you try to locate some of his stories. Barnes & Noble published a volume of the complete works of his fiction in 2008. Most of his work is in the form of short stories and with a little effort I’m sure you can find them in used books stores selling horror.
November 5, 2026 at 5:53 am
Published as a paperback by Galley Books in 2015, with Revival, Stephen King has done it again; taking us on a ride through interesting characters with a touch of horror, maybe more than a touch. I enjoyed this novel. Now let me tell you why.
First, some background.
Stephen King and I are the same age, and we’re both writers of horror. The similarities stop there. King has bucks coming out his butt because his novels sell because they are excellent reads. I just have a butt with the usual production, but I’m working to change that. I love King’s work, and with this last novel, I’m beginning to understand why.
We grew up together.
I enjoy all of King’s earlier novels, written while he and I were young or of middle age, the characters kept my interest and the storylines were magnificent horror. But the age of the characters was unimportant to both me and the work. Then, as he grew old, and life took its toll, his writing began to change, and being the same age, I now strongly identify with the characters.
There is no guide to getting old, thank God, for if there was, some might chose not to. Everyone’s experience is different and unique. There are those who do not have a chance to experience the aches, pains and loss of the purpose they once knew. You know the only way to not grow old, think Marilyn Monroe. They are the ones who suffer the loss of opportunity of time and accomplishment.
Now, about the story.
Revival centers on a minister who loses his faith and a young boy he encounters before circumstances cause this loss. Even after his loss of faith, the minister holds revivals and accomplishes cures using ‘secret electricity’, an unknown form of electricity which he is sure exists. He also feels this electricity will allow him to glimpse worlds we cannot normally see. The result is not pleasant. King goes totally H.P. Lovecraftian at the novel’s conclusion. Being a fan of Lovecraft, I loved it.
Revival is an excellent tale of horror, but it is much more. It is also a skilled description of the ageing process through the life of its characters. Until you are there, advance age cannot be truly described. This is what give a richness to King’s tale. Through personal experience, King does a fantastic job of combining advance age, and bearing the crosses of life’s experiences. I also bear crosses, and am stumbling through the years.
Treat yourself.
Read this book.
June 15, 2015 at 6:12 pm
This is a question I often ask myself of the author while I read his novel. How many of the characteristics of a main or minor character are yours?
I’ve recently finished reading Breakfast of Champions by Kurt Vonnegut. It’s a strange, enjoyable read. In the book, one of the characters is the creator of the characters in the story which makes for a strange interaction. The ‘author’ character refers to elements of his past. I’ve also recently completed reading And So It Goes by Charles J. Shields, and all the facts and incidents mentioned by the ‘author’ character are also true for Vonnegut.
As in the above, what I like to do when I find an author whose work I enjoy is seek out facts about the mind behind the words by reading their biography. Here’s a sampling of whose fiction I’ve enjoyed and whose lives I wanted to discover.
I expect that you know by now that I enjoy writing horror. One of my favorite authors of the genre is H. P. Lovecraft. I have a volume of his complete works and occasionally visit the volume to enjoy a short story or one of his longer works. His writing is quite dated but I find the worlds he creates interesting. Lovecraft gave birth to a subgenre of horror which lives on. Sometime ago I read a biography of his short life. I recall he died around the age of 49. He initially fancied himself a poet but eventually fell into horror much to our benefit.
Frederick Exley is a writer I found to be both funny and sad. For a great read, find a copy of his novel, A Fan’s Notes, a work following the career of Frank Gifford and is a weakly veiled account of Exley. The biography of Exley I read confirmed this. As an example of Exley’s outlook, in one episode of the book the main character thinks he is dying. He decides to practically take up residence in a bar and then relates how he gained twenty pounds while wasting away from cancer. You’ve got to feel sorry for the guy and yet love him. As I said, funny but sad.
Jack Kerouac is another author I enjoy and read his biography. His classic novel, On the Road, closely reflects his life with the names changed to protect the guilty.
So many authors endure lives that are far from pleasant, something I’ll touch on in a latter post concerning the merits of good vs bad in an author and his characters. But with their many and sometimes tragic faults, we readers reap the rewards of their work.
So back to my original question to you writers: How much of your characters reflect details of your life? As far as my work is concerned, there is one character in my novel, New Moon Rising, who is me, and I’d like to challenge my readers to name the character and reap a reward.
To be continued…
September 20, 2014 at 6:47 pm
