Newsgroups: alt.horror
Subject: Re: No subject 
From: kens@vax1.mankato.msus.edu
Date: 10 Jan 93 17:37:40 -0600
Organization: Mankato State University

In article <memo.843130@cix.compulink.co.uk>, piharris@cix.compulink.co.uk (Philip Harris) writes:
> This is a story I have just finished, I'd appreciate any comments.
> 
> 
> 
> THE SAND MAN
> 
> Outside the sandstorm raged.
> 
> Henry sat in the centre of the tent, his hot hands gripping the book
> he had discovered two days earlier. The pages of the book were
> covered in barely legible hand written text and he had spent three
> days studing the scrawl, looking for clues to it's meaning.
> 
> It was supposed to be one of five books which were created by
> cultists in the 12th century, worshippers of some unholy god. The
> books were reported to contain the history of the cult, and the key
> to hitherto unknown power.
> 
> He had been warned that the books contained secrets that no man was
> supposed to learn. His father himself had told him that they were
> cursed, and whoever read it's contents would be forced to endure an
> eternity of anguish.
> 
> But still he had researched the location of the books for two years.
> He'd travelled thousands of miles in search of one. Finally, after
> weeks of digging he'd found a copy, his copy.
> 
> Three nights ago the group of men he had brought from the town to
> help him with his dig had discovered a sandstone building, a small
> temple. Henry had sent the men away, and continued the digging alone.
> He'd dug himself a narrow gap, just big enough for him to slide
> through, and dropped into the temple.
> 
> Henry's flickering torch revealed walls covered with arcane drawings,
> set with gold, but his attention had been drawn to the sandstone
> altar at the front of the building. The thick leather bound book had
> been attached to the altar with a gold chain but he hadn't come all
> this way to let a piece of metal stop him. A hammer and chisel
> shattered the chain like glass and he'd gently lifted the dust
> covered book from the altar. Blowing the dust from the cover he'd
> revealed the title, Nostradius Mortalis.
> 
> He'd spent the last three days studying the book alone. He'd not
> eaten, ignoring the incessant nagging of his stomach completely and
> his water had almost run out. Still he couldn't bring himself to
> leave the tome. The text was confusing and contradictory, almost
> impossible to read let alone understand. There was no punctuation, no
> paragraphs, no titles or headings. It was heavy going, his head
> ached, but still he continued examining the book, looking for some
> insight into it's meaning.
> 
> Around him the heavy material flapped violently in the howling wind.
> Outside it had become dark, as though the sun had become eclipsed by
> the storm. The wind roared
> 
> Then , without warning, the storm stopped, and there was silence,
> total silence. The storm was over, but the darkness stayed. Henry
> glanced around himself, his hair plastered to his head by the
> oppressive midday heat. A droplet of sweat dropped from his nose into
> the sand in front of him. All he could hear was the beating of his
> heart, the rest of the world was silent. He glanced nervously around
> again.
> 
> The ground beneath him seemed to lift up slightly, then he was
> falling.
> 
> He was dropping, then sliding, down a long sand covered slope. It was
> completely and utterly dark. Even his own hands, just a few
> centimetres from his face, were invisible. He tried to slow himself
> by digging his feet in, but only managed to kick up a plume of sand,
> the majority of which ended up in his face. Then his feet caught
> something firm and he was flipped onto his stomach, his mouth filling
> with sand. It became difficult to breathe, each choking breath
> brought him closer to blacking out, and he supposed, death.
> 
> After two agonising minutes he reached the bottom of whatever shaft
> he had fallen down.
> 
> The ground was hard, and his body ached from both the slide down and
> his landing. Gingerly he stood up, checking for broken bones. By some
> miracle, he was intact, covered in sand but intact. The room he was
> in was square, and dimly lit although he couldn't see from where. At
> his feet was the book. There were no exits.
> 
> Then he noticed the chill. Above ground it had been sweltering,
> midday and so hot that nothing would leave the safety of the shade.
> But down here, wherever here was, it was frighteningly cold. Henry's
> breath condensed in the air, his teeth began to chatter and a shiver
> ran down his back.
> 
> "So you finally decided to join us."
> 
> Henry swung round to face the voice. In one corner of the room stood
> a dark shape, he was not sure it had been there when he had first
> arrived. Slowly the shape took one step forward, and he saw it was a
> man, of sorts. He was tall, at least seven feet, probably more. He
> was dressed entirely in black, which made his pale, greyish head
> stand out even more. It's jaw was elongated, the jaw bone standing
> out, the skin stretched taunt over it. It's eyes were a deep,
> glittering red revealing no emotion.
> 
> The creature smiled, at least Henry assumed it was a smile. It's lips
> slid back revealing row upon row of tiny, shark-like teeth. Saliva
> dripped from the teeth. The creature flexed it's long bony fingers,
> the nails at the end of each one glistening with some form of liquid.
> 
> The room suddenly became home to a sandstorm, a thousand times more
> intense than the one above ground. The sand from the floor whipped
> round the room, seemingly centred on Henry. The noise was deafening
> and he put his hands over his ears, trying to block out the screaming
> wind. A wave of sand hit him square in the face, his eyes stung
> agonisingly as the sand stuck to their surface, absorbing the
> moisture. He tried to blink, but the action simply aggravated the
> pain. His lids rubbing the harsh sand across the surface, blinding
> him.
> 
> More sand whipped across his face, flaying the skin from his skull,
> exposing the raw nerves underneath. The pain was exquisite, Henry
> sank to his knees, his clothes ripped to shreds by the wind, and the
> sand that accompanied it. And still the storm continued. The skin
> over his entire body was ripped away within seconds, and the
> seemingly endless stream of sand began to adhere to the exposed
> muscle, coating him. His teeth, no longer protected by his lips
> became pitted and cracked as the sand beat down upon Henry's face.
> 
> Henry screamed, and the sand filled his mouth, cutting off the sound,
> destroying his tongue, ripping his vocal chords to tiny shreds on the
> way down to his lungs. His lungs were full within seconds, and Henry
> died.
> 
> Slowly the wind dropped down, but still the sand continued, falling
> on the golden form crouched in front of the creature. Eventually even
> the sand ceased to fall and where Henry had once been there was a
> sand encrusted statue of a crouching man.
> 
> Then, very slowly, the statue began to stand, sand sliding off it's
> body as it did so. The coating of sand that remained was thin, damp
> patches were beginning to show as blood from the man within tried to
> escape the envelope of sand. The Sand Man's eyes were thick with
> sand, yet he seemed to stare at the creature before him. Behind the
> creature an entrance had appeared, a doorway in the sand which led
> into almost complete darkness. Once more the creature effected a
> parody of a smile, then it turned and left the room.
> 
> The Sand Man stood totally still, staring after the creature. The
> exit led to a dim corridor, and in the corridor was the creature
> itself, along with a group of four humanlike figures. Each one was
> disfigured beyond recognition, but all had clearly once been human.
> One was sodden, it's water filled body bloated out of proportion.
> Another was blackened and scorched, another a dry husk of a man, all
> moisture sucked out completely. The forth man-creature was covered in
> slashes, it's skin sliced to ribbons.
> 
> Each one of the creatures held a book and each one was staring at the
> Sand Man.
> 
> The Sand Man bent down and picked up the book that had brought him to
> the pit, agonising pain sliding up and down his body as he moved. He
> stood for a moment, then joined the other creatures. For the rest of
> eternity.
> 
> Philip Harris
> 4th January 1993
> 
>      **********************
>      *                    *       .... TERROR IN THE UK ....
>      *    Philip Harris   *       
>      * Born Oct 15th 1969 *    Barker....Campbell....Herbert...
>      * Died Feb 25th 1973 *
>      *                    *       .... TERROR IN THE UK ....
>      **********************

> I liked your story.  It's well writen and has a great story-line.
> Have you writen any other stories like it? You seem to have a good
> mind for writing horror stories. The "shock value" is very intense
> which makes it even better.  So many writers who try to write a horror
> story tend to leave out the shocking scenes which leaves an empty space
> within the story. You, on the other hand, have created a short story that
> could be expanded into a novel or even a movie. Good luck to ya!!