Frights & Fables: The Unleashed

Genesis of Terror

Struggling to wake, Larry Tall felt as if he was attempting to swim up from the nebulous
depths of a black pool. After several unconscious attempts to snap out of the
anesthesia, he finally broke through. Taking a deep breath, oxygen flooded his senses,
and he woke. His eyes slowly labored open, only to be met with harsh fluorescent lights
that stung his retinas. He wasn’t sure how long he lay there, squinting against the
brightness, eyes laboring to make sense of the unfamiliar surroundings. He was
restrained on a cold, metallic bed, straps digging into his flesh, unable to move.
A man’s voice was audible through staticky speakers, but the words seemed like
distant muttering. Almost, as soon as he became aware of it, the voice stopped. And the
speakers fell silent.

He winced, his head throbbing with pain. It was hard to think. He had no recollection of
how he ended up in this state or why. There was an intermittent, distant hum of what
sounded like machinery.

Whirrr—snik, errum, errum, errum.

He strained against the straps, struggling on the edge of panic, but they held firm. A
wave of nausea washed over him, his muscles still seemed weak and unresponsive.
Swallowing hard, he kept the surging stream of sick down. His recall was absent as if
the specter of memory had simply not yet arrived. He was afraid of what story it might
reveal when it did.

What have I done now? He had been an accident-prone teenager and landed in the
hospital more than once. He pinched his eyes closed and then slowly opened them,
hoping the move would somehow clear things up—it didn’t.

Suddenly, he heard a low growl that seemed to come from deep within…wherever he
was at. The sound was guttural, animalistic, and unlike anything he had ever heard
before. His blood ran cold. It seemed…Hungry. He wanted to run. The thoughts were
crystal clear and immutable—not impulse…instinct.

Something was wrong, he thought. I need to get out. I don’t even know what is
happening. No matter how this looked, he surmised he was not a patient in a hospital
ward; he was a prisoner in this mysterious place, and he was in danger. There are no
Doctors or nurses here, taking my vitals. Where is my family? They should be here,
waiting for my eyes to open. That’s what is missing—not even a get- well-soon bouquet
of flowers. Nothing.

As he lay there, trying to pull together his thoughts, Larry noticed something else – an
uncomfortable sensation coursing through his veins, a painful revelation that something
had been done to him, a chemical injection of some sort. He could feel it spreading out
in spiderweb complexity. He didn’t know if it was toxic or not, but he could feel it
burning him on the inside. With each moment, he could feel thoughts and impressions
that seemed invasive—inhuman.

There was scratching behind the walls. Larry quaked with fear as a feint memory
returned. He was asleep and a door opened, a secret ingress hidden in one of the
walls. A towering albino man with antlers screwed into his head entered and held him
down with one arm while he cut into his side with a scalpel. He could smell the
specious cleanliness of the room and feel the rough texture of the straps against his
skin with an intensity he had never experienced before. The distant Whirrr—snik of
machinery was becoming profoundly clear—almost deafening. Rats. The scratching
was rats.

As his eyes slowl y adjusted to the light, he was able to scan the room from his
restricted position. It was immaculately clean, devoid of any personal touches. A sharp
antiseptic smell stung his nose. The walls were stark white, and the only furniture was
the bed he was strapped to. There was a cart filled with an array of medical tools and
equipment. Their cold, clinical gleam sent shivers down his spine. A whiteboard hung
on the wall to his left: Change is Inevitable, was scribbled in marker, prominently
beneath a graphic of a yellow sunrise and a dairy barn, a daily affirmation of some sort.

A surge of strength coursed through him, and with a burst of effort, he managed to
wrench one arm free from the restraints. Who was the strange man he had seen
before? It made no sense. He sat up, wincing at the flood of dizziness that followed. I
need answers, but first, I have to get out of here anyway I can.

With one arm free, a momentary surge of accomplishment followed. His heart raced as
he reached across his body to the other restraint. He fumbled with the buckle at first, the
sense of urgency making him clumsy. Finally, with a click, the strap came loose, and he
was free.

Wasting no more time, Larry swung his legs over the side of the bed and sat up, trying
to ignore the wave of dizziness that swept over him. He took a moment to steady
himself, his eyes scanning the room for any sign of danger. He wore hospital pants and
had tight bandages around his torso, elbows, and biceps. He was otherwise naked.
The strange, animalistic growls he’d heard earlier seemed to have subsided, but he
couldn’t shake off the feeling of being watched. A name rang out in his mind.

Grimshaw. Grimshaw, Grimshaw! He recalled fragmented flashes of the tall, lean, man
injecting him with a massive syringe, flooding his system with what felt like liquid fire.
“Indeed, that ought to stimulate the progression of events, wouldn’t you agree?” He
remembered feeling like the words were not meant for him, just the Doctor speaking for
his own benefit.

His legs wobbled beneath him, as he put weight on them. He felt weak, like he had
been lying down for a very long time. But the passage of time was a concept that
seemed to have lost all measure in this pseudo-sterile environment. Without knowing
exactly how long he had been here, it may as well have been one day; it may as well
have been an eternity.

He gazed down at the cart filled with medical equipment, daring to take stock of exactly
what sort of place this was. There were needles, even the massive syringe he recalled
before, and other tools that hinted at invasive procedures, including the scalpel the
albino had used on him.

Fragments of dislodged memories assailed him: first memory—he was standing in a
line with his arm around a young woman—Amy was her name, he thought, hard to
remember details; Second Memory— the monstrous albino wore a name tag that read
“Subject 14: Josh;” final memory—an unsympathetic voice…Dr. Grimshaw. It was the
same voice that droned on in the speaker earlier, the same indifferent doctor, he
recalled before.

Amy? That may be his last real memory outside of this place, whatever it was. That
memory seemed to stabilize, even as others faded. They were waiting to go into a
private club she knew about. After that, things become dark and strange. Suddenly,
unwanted images and sounds stormed in, memories concerning Josh and Dr.
Grimshaw, and pain—a bleak cacophony of disorder. It was too much at once.
things become dark and strange. Suddenly, unwanted images and sounds stormed in,
memories concerning Josh and Dr. Grimshaw, and pain—a bleak cacophony of
disorder. It was too much at once.

His attention was drawn to a discarded paper on the floor. He picked it up, his eyes
scanning the text. It was filled with medical jargon, a black-and-white photo of him on a
surgical table, and numbers that made little sense. He pulled at the stringy lock of hair
that fell in front of his face. His hair was much shorter in the picture. So it wasn’t a day.
His eyes darted and searched across the text, one entry stood out – ” Transmutatio
Curatio.”

A chill ran down his spine. Furrowing his eyes, he shook his head. It was Latin for
Transformation Treatment. What did it all mean? The thought was horrifying, and Larry
felt a fresh wave of panic surge through his guts.
The chemical spread…and burned.

Suddenly, the silence was broken by an echoing growl that reverberated through the
room, the exact direction it came from was unclear, obfuscated by the strange angles
and echoes of this place. It did, however, sound closer this time, and Larry could feel
the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. The presence he had felt earlier was closing
on him.

His head turned quickly left and right, searching for a way out. His eyes landed on a
door at the far end of the room. As he approached it, he noticed it was slightly ajar. He
pushed it open, revealing a long, dank, dimly lit corridor; there was a strong earthy
smell.

Stepping through the doorway, Larry felt a chill wash over him. The air was colder here,
filled with an ominous silence that was punctuated by distant, formless, eerie sounds.
Whirrr—snik, errum, errum, errum.

The corridor seemed to stretch out endlessly, lined with identical closed doors. His bare
feet made a soft slapping sound on the cold floor. The minute slightest sound echoed
ominously in the surreal silence as he moved cautiously forward, feeling the percussion
in his chest, matching the rhythm of his quickening steps. Thump-thump, thump-thump.
It felt like his heart was trying to break out of his ribcage.

The disorienting sense of being lost loosed a memory of the first time he entered
Balfour Hall, and felt so small before the venerable university walls. He had come in
early to find his classes, and the place was empty, like this one. He felt tiny and
vulnerable.
His eyes narrowed, as he crouched to examine something unusual on the floor,
something strewn on the edge of the corridor wall. It looked like bits of animal bones
jumbled together with hardened grit, grime, string, and hair. His instincts were on edge.
He froze as the absurd became obscene, then recoiled with the realization that the
small bundle of desiccated gore was not the remains of some unfortunate vermin but
rather the remains of a severed hand.

+++

He raised back up, remembering a few more tidbits of his fractured past. He was in
some sort of biology or veterinary program. He still could not quite remember. His head
still throbbed.

He poised in response to the sound of a soft whirring, followed by a click. One of the
doors along the corridor had slid open. Cautiously, he peered inside. The room was
filled with computers and monitors, their screens filled with lines of incomprehensible
code and charts.

A single chair sat in front of the largest monitor; its back turned to him. On the desk
beside it lay a leather satchel, papers spilling out of it. With trepidation, Larry stepped
inside the room and picked up the bag. His eyes scanned the documents, trying to
make sense of the medical jargon and complex diagrams.

Then, a line caught his attention – “Subject L.T. – Phase 1 of Transformation
Successful.” A cold dread washed over him. Does L.T. refer to me? There appeared to
be additional notes, scribbled down in a journalistic style notated by Dr. Grimshaw. He
would have to review those later. He stuffed the papers into the satchel and threw the
strap over his neck and shoulder.

A speaker hidden somewhere in the room turned on, and static popping sounds
accompanied the voice of Dr. Grimshaw. “My dear, you simply cannot depart. Such an
action would be most regrettable. It has always been solely us, you and I, entwined in
this dance of destiny. Our task is far from completion, the masterpiece yet unfinished.
There remains a world of accomplishments untouched by my hands.” A pause as if
Grimshaw was awaiting a response. “Should you abscond, I would be left in solitude,
forced to commence anew with another. Is that the outcome you desire…yes? It appears
quite evident, does it not?”

Before he could formulate a response, a distant loud metal clang followed by a low
growl echoed through the facility. The menacing presence he had sensed since waking
up was out there. Must go.
Must run. Move now!

He tucked the shoulder bag under his arm and exited the room, rushing down the
corridor, his mind reeling with questions, the growls louder with each step. He was
vividly aware that the strange chemicals were continuing to move through his body,
spreading out…burning.

The corridor seemed impossibly dangerous, his mind whirling with the implications of
what he’d heard.

Dr. Grimshaw thought they were alone here. The sterile walls seemed to close in on
him as the growls grew louder, more insistent “Ahhhhh…ugh”, cried out Larry as his foot
caught on something, sending him sprawling onto the cold floor. He looked back to see
what he had tripped over – it was a metal grate embedded into the floor, its bars wide
enough for something to crawl through. There was a metal panel that looked like it was
used to conceal it, but the heavy panel had been clearly moved and discarded. A shiver
ran down his spine as he considered the possibility of what could have been lurking
beneath, or the growling may have been coming from underneath him, this entire time.
Ignoring the throbbing pain in his knee, he scrambled to his feet, eyes darting around,
half expecting a creature to emerge from the shadows. But nothing came, only the
hollow resonance of his own rapid breathing and the distant growl that seemed to
follow in endless pursuit…now on the same level as him.

Pressing forward, Larry noticed a flickering light at the far end of the corridor. As he
approached, he realized it was an elevator. A potential escape route to some unknown
destination. His heart leaped with hope, scrambling for purchase in the abstract notion
of freedom, whatever that meant.

+++

Pressing the call button, he waited; the silence of the corridor was suddenly
overwhelming. The doors opened with a low hum, revealing an empty car. Larry
stepped inside and pressed the button for the ground floor. The doors closed, and the
elevator began its ascent. “One cannot elude the impending future! You are incapable
of halting the inexorable! Humanity teeters on the precipice of evolution, and you, my
dear, stand as a living testament. Do you not?” The voice rang through the static of an
old speaker, concealed in the elevator. Larry propped himself against the vibrating wall,
listening to the muffled squeaking of old machinery, sweat beading up on his crawling
flesh, as the smell of dirty oil drifted into the elevator box, coupled with a familiar earthy
aroma. The chemical continued to sear its way through his system. “Ponder this,” the
voice persisted, “Had I not discovered this sanctuary, this vast expanse of knowledge,
and most crucially, had I not stumbled upon you, none of this extraordinary journey
would have been conceivable. Now, we shall ascend to the next plateau!”

Larry’s eyes widened, more confused than ever. Nothing made sense, but Grimshaw’s
status as madman seemed a solid likelihood. He felt hot pain as the chemical burnt its
way through him.

The elevator jolted to a stop, the doors opening to reveal another long corridor, this one
darker and colder. Larry stepped out, his senses on high alert. He could feel a change
in the air, a sense of impending danger, changing from persistent to absolutely dire. The
voice behind him, devolving into mad mutterings, and nihilistic nonsense, became
feinter and further as Larry moved away into the darkness.

Suddenly, the growl echoed through the corridor, louder and more terrifying than ever. It
was close, very close. Larry began to run, the satchel tucked tightly in the bend of his
arm.

The Crooked Chase

Sprinting down the dark corridor, Larry’s organs cooperated in perfect order, keeping
time to an impossible beat. The growls were an ominous soundtrack to his desperate
escape. He could hear something large and powerful moving behind him, getting closer
with every passing footfall.

Larry shook his head. Struggling not to veer into a wall or break stride. I am not even
sure where I am running to, other than ‘away.’ What am I going to do when I get
outside…where am I going to go? For all I know, this chemical is killing me. Larry was
confused, possessed by a red lust to escape. He heard a faint sliding sound behind him
and became aware of a feral smell.

Throwing a quick glance over his shoulder, he saw something—a massive shadowy
form emerging from the darkness, startlingly human-like, with a body wildly outside of
the familiar human aesthetic. Its eyes glowed with a predatory moonlit ambiance, its growl echoing through the sterile hallway. Fear gripped him, but it also fueled him, pushing him to run faster than he ever thought possible.

As he raced down the corridor, he noticed a change in himself. His body felt different,
more powerful, his senses span on the pinnacle edge, erupting beyond their previous
limitations. He could see clearly in the dim light, his hearing was sharper, picking up
every nuance of sound.

But there was no time to dwell on it. Spotting a door on his left, Larry took a sharp turn
and burst into a storage room filled with crates and boxes. With a surge of adrenaline,
he scrambled up a stack of crates, hoping the creature wouldn’t think to look up as it
followed.

The growls grew louder, followed by the sound of the already broken door exploding
into the room as the creature tore past it. Larry held his breath, his heart hammering
against his ribs as the creature entered the room, sniffing the air, searching for him.
Nowhere else to go.

He glanced down from his rickety ledge, catching a clearer sight of the creature. It was
unlike anything he’d ever seen, a monstrous hybrid of man and beast, a terrifying
realization of both.

Shaking off the fear, Larry knew he had to plan his next move. He needed to get to the
ground floor, to get out of this nightmare facility. But first, he had to escape this room
and the hunter.

In the dimly lit storage room, Larry watched as the monstrous creature prowled below.
His mind raced, trying to formulate a plan of escape. He could feel the transformation
within him growing more pronounced with each passing second, his senses becoming
alarmingly acute.

Feeling a surge of strength, he yielded to the transformation, allowing it to rage through
his system to get every advantage. Silently, he moved across the stack of crates,
positioning himself directly above the creature. His heartbeat seemed to strike with
such ferocity that he feared it might betray his position.

Thump-Thump, Thump-Thump. Thump-thump. He made his move.

In one swift motion, Larry leapt from the crates, landing on the creature’s back. It roared
in surprise and thrashed wildly, trying to throw him off, but Larry held on tightly. Using all
his newfound strength, he managed to steer the creature through a stack of crates and
into the wall, dazing it.

Seizing the opportunity, Larry darted out of the room, back into the corridor. He could
hear the creature recovering and giving chase, its roars echoing through the facility
behind him. Larry was faster now, his body adapting to the high-stakes situation.
Sprinting down the corridor, Larry spotted an emergency exit sign up ahead. He was so
close to freedom.

But just as he was about to reach the door, a heavy force slammed into him, sending
him sprawling to the floor.

+++

He rolled over and over, coming face to face with the creature. Its glowing eyes bore
into him, its growl vibrating through his bones. It snarled, showing its powerful jaws of
savage, irregular teeth, strands of drool clinging, between them. “No way it’s going to
end so close to the exit,” he growled back.

With a roar of his own, born from the depths of fear and rage and lifted up by a primal
need for violence.

Larry scrambled to his feet, launching himself at the creature. That’s new. Where is this
need to fight coming from? It seems crazy, but also kind of exciting. They tumbled down
the corridor, a whirlwind of snarls and grunts. The transformation was fueled by his will
to survive.

Catching the creature off guard with a powerful shoulder lunge, he sent it crashing into
a wall. Wasting no time, Larry rose to his feet and continued towards the emergency
exit, slamming into the door and bursting out into the night.

He was free! Larry knew the answers he needed were still in there. His transformation
was ongoing, and more uncontrolled than before. Tapping into it may have been a
mistake. Larry growled, circling to make sure nothing was closing in on him. He roared.
“What’s going on?!” His voice erupted with unexpected volume, fueled by a primal
ferocity, almost a howl.

Outside the ominous facility, the cold night air bit Larry’s skin. His path brought him out
through an exit, disguised as a mausoleum and dumped him into a graveyard. Crooked
headstones, broken statuary, and twisted wrought iron were everywhere. The
realization of his freedom was already waning. It was far from over. His transformation
progressed, he was stronger and more powerful with each passing moment, to what
end…Larry didn’t know.

Suddenly, a loud crash echoed from inside the facility. Larry turned just in time to see
the creature burst through the emergency exit, its roars filling the night. No way he was
going to let this creature gut him on the gravestones.

He bolted into the darkness, the creature hot on his heels. But Larry was faster now, his
body adapting to his surroundings with an uncanny ease. He was keenly aware of
every detail of the forest around him.

The sounds of the night were vividly clear, painting the darkness with invisible colors,
creating a topography in his mind. He heard the creature’s heavy footfalls, smelled its
savage breath, and felt its location. It was almost on top of him.

Larry sensed a steep cliff up ahead. He sprinted towards it, hoping to use the terrain to
his advantage. As he reached the edge, he turned, senses alive with pain and
prospect.

The creature was just behind him, snarling and snapping. It lunged, Larry sidestepped,
using the creature’s momentum to send it tumbling over the edge of the cliff. Larry
grabbed onto it as it went, holding onto its back and shoulders, flailing as they fell, the
satchel hanging tight against its strap.

Larry, reeling from the impact of the fall, released his hold on the creature’s shoulders
and stepped cautiously away from its still, silent form. There were no snarls, no heavy
breath, except his own. There was nothing. The creature was lying dead and twisted
where it fell, its neck broken.
Looking around, he was in an area of thick woods. The graveyard was far behind him
now.
As if fueled by his victory, the pain in his guts intensified. He was burning from the
inside. He made his way through the dense forest. He could hear the distant sound of a
river and smell the fresh pine of the trees, unhampered, even in the pitch-black
darkness. It was frightening, but also exhilarating.

Suddenly, he heard a soft rustling behind him. Spinning with a snarl he saw a group of
menacing, dark figures stalking out of the shadows, their eyes glowing pale yellow in
the dark. More creatures, had joined the hunt.

+++

Larry wasn’t going to run this time. Something inside of him bore its fangs, and he
followed suit. The creatures were already charging as he raced to meet them head-on.
Aside from their numbers, they were not more formidable than the first fiend he already
defeated.

The forest became a battleground. Larry fought with a brutal fury, his movements fast
and precise. He felt energized by the violence. A bloodlust seemed to be aiding him,
adapting him, evolving him.

One by one, he managed to take down the creatures in blood and gore. But just as he
thought he’d won, a larger creature emerged from the shadows. Its growl was
deafening, its eyes burning with rage. Larry knew this was the alpha. It rose in front of
him, master of the others and altogether different from them.

Metal showed through its terrible black fur, evidence of structural surgery beneath its
bestial coat. It appeared to never have been human, but rather an animal evolved to a
ghastly formula. With a roar, the alpha charged. Larry braced himself, adrenaline
surging through his veins. This was it.

The battle was intense. Larry landed grisly attacks of tooth and claw, but the alpha was
strong. He could feel his energy waning with each attack. But he couldn’t give up. He
wouldn’t.

With a final burst of strength, Larry launched himself at the alpha, tearing into the beast
any way he could. The rapid, vicious series of attacks collectively sent the creature
sprawling to the ground. Panting heavily, he watched as the alpha slowly retreated into
the shadows, momentarily defeated.

Brushing the blood off of his bare flesh and marveling at his own numerous wounds, he
felt his own appetite well up within, threatening to swallow his mind. His instinct
demanded to feed. His sense was that it would help him heal.

There was a roaring beast within him, gnawing at the gates of his sanity. It was the
insatiable hunger that terrified him most – a ravenous beast that threatened to consume
his very soul.

A tiny sound, almost imperceivable, soft and rhythmic, echoed in his ears, drawing him
closer to a small suburb on the forest’s edge. Through a dimly lit window, of a tiny
house, he saw her – a woman alone, unaware, distracted, oblivious to the danger
prowling outside. Every rhythmic chord pushed hot blood, coursing through her veins.
The primal hunger within him surged, overwhelming all sense of reason. He moved
closer, just outside the window, poised to crash through, his eyes locked onto the
unsuspecting prey. Just as he was about to strike, a wave of confusion washed over
him, as a flood of memories drenched his consciousness. Amy was innocent. Is this
what happened to her? What are you doing Larry? He lost the violent impulse in the
dark corners of his mind. This woman was innocent. How can I forget my own
humanity? He could smell the blood in her veins, taste the softness of her flesh. Thump,
Thump. The span of a single beat was enough to curb his lethal trajectory, snapping
him sapient for a few fleeting moments.

This is wrong. I am wrong.

Overwhelmed by horror and disgust, Larry recoiled from the house. He retreated into
the forest’s depths, collapsing against a tree trunk, gnawing desperately on the bark,
fantasizing he was tearing meat from a living body. He shook as he fought against the
monstrous urge that had nearly led him to commit a ghastly act.

A feeling of hopelessness consumed him. What kind of monster am I? He was an
inhuman creature, a predator on the brink of savagery. The facility and its insidious
experiments turned him into this… bloodthirsty fiend.

+++

Why?! At that moment he could not even remember his own name. He cried into the
night, his voice echoing through the silent woods—wails of a beast.

His question hung heavy in the air, unanswered. He was alone, battling a horrifying
reality. The horror of his actions and the despair of his situation threatened to crush him
under their malign weight, a terrible science-born circumstance he could not escape.
Pull it together he pled with himself. He couldn’t quite remember what his goals had
been. They must have been greater, than escape—the civility of his humanity had slid,
unrecognizably, into the simple morality of a beast. No matter how dark the path
seemed, he was on it.

Somewhere beyond the pale, Larry sat alone in the darkness of the forest, the moon
casting a ghostly glow on his trembling form. The taste of his own fear was more bitter
than he had ever imagined. He loomed over a small pool of water, attempting furtively
to make sense of the revelation that now stared back at him. He grimaced and exhaled
an involuntary, mournful cry.

He thought of the woman in the house, the life he had nearly stolen. He could still hear
her heartbeat, a haunting melody that played on an endless loop in his mind. It was a
chilling reminder of the monster he had become.

A shiver ran down his spine as he recounted the events of the facility, the cold, sterile
rooms, Dr. Grimshaw, with his indifferent eyes. The doctor said he found the lab and the
experiments. In his flashes of memory, Grimshaw seemed to have no connection to
Josh, or the creatures. Apparently, he was just playing in a very sinister sandbox. If
Grimshaw and whoever else was lurking in that facility made him a monster, they will
be surprised when they realize that he is the monster that hunts after them, the tool of
their own destruction.

He opened the satchel, withdrawing the papers, roughly shredding to the end; he read,
Subject: L.T., not expected to survive phase 2 without implementation of Jungle Book
training standards. He didn’t know what that meant. But he did glimpse his name in the
record: Tall, Larry.

Epilogue

He wondered what freedom meant and if he even escaped at all. He wondered if he
would have been better off to have died in that place. The hunger was still there, lurking
in the depths of his soul, waiting for a moment of weakness. It was a persistent battle, a
struggle between man and beast. He withdrew the file and began meticulously
reviewing the handwritten entries of Dr. Grimshaw. Tall Larry was determined to
uncover the terrifying truth.

The End

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Villagers claim that if you hear your own voice whispered in the wind, Tenebris is near