Lost Civilization Challenge: "The Events of 1906" -- by Hazel B West

The Events of 1906

By Hazel B. West

Excerpts from the found Journal of Dr. Richard Shelby of the Far Northern Exploration of 1906 about the harrowing events that transpired.

September 18^th1906, North Pole

Our exploratory team has finally made landfall at the North Pole! The journey through the Arctic Ocean was harrowing—already the cold is unbearable and it is only mid-September. Dr. Sharpe and I were up all night going over plans for our exploration, which will begin once we have our base camp set up. 

            And getting the camp set up is indeed our first order of business. We will be here until next late spring when the ice thaws enough to allow us to leave, so we must make ourselves a place where we can find at least some creature comforts. It is hardly England, but I think we will make do. And surely, with all the research ahead of us we will have little time to think of the lack of comfort. By this time next year, Dr. Sharpe and I hope that our team will bring back fantastic new information to the civilized world about this mysterious and uncharted area.

September 26^th

It took the better part of a week to construct our permanent home base, but Mr. Harper, our foreman, is a good hand and has given us something that I am confident will last the winter, even here in the farthest northern reaches of the earth.

            During the construction, Dr. Sharpe and I took a couple afternoons to survey the landscape nearby. As we are not too far from the water here, there is still occasional wildlife to be found—we even spotted a polar bear not far from camp. Mr. Grey got photographs of it, which made him very pleased. 

            The expedition seems to already be off to a good start. 

September 29^th

Today starts our exploration officially! We packed up several sleds this morning, and a team of fifteen of us will head out toward the north. We should be away from the base for about two weeks if all goes to plan.

            Dr. Sharpe and I have decided to head toward a rather lumpy part of the landscape we had spied during our initial survey. It was hard to tell for sure, but we had hopes that it was a small mountain range. If there are caves, we may find yet undiscovered fauna or flora to bring back to the Royal Academy of Science. And then of course there would be the geological finds that Dr. Mallory is hoping for.

            

We’ve made camp after a long day’s journey. Nothing to report so far. We have a long way ahead of us, probably three more days journey on foot to the mountains. 

October 2^nd

We’ve made it to the mountains and are now building a more permanent camp where we will stay for this short expedition. Dr. Sharpe and I have been making our plans and are hoping to climb into the mountains via a valley of sorts we spotted on our way in. The visuals here are breathtaking. White and bleak, yes, but with a certain cold majesty. Icy outcroppings soaring high into the grey skies. I spent most of the afternoon sketching the vistas. It makes me wonder whether we are the first men who have set eyes on this place, and I am beginning to think that is most likely the case. It is a rare privilege indeed, and I am humbled to be a part of this.

October 3^rd

I must struggle to contain my enthusiasm at the absolutely improbable find we have stumbled across, but I will try my best to put it all into words.

This morning, we started our exploration through the cleft in the mountains toward some of the higher peeks. The area we chose was rather more closed off than we had hoped, but just as we were planning on trying another direction, Mr. Grey discovered a cave and we decided to have a look.

            The cave itself continued further and further back until we could no longer see the light of day at our backs and had to rely fully on the gas lanterns and torches we had luckily had the forethought to bring with us that morning. Until we saw daylight ahead of us now, as the tunnel seemed to be a fortunate passage through part of the mountain. Eagerly, we stepped through.

            And here is where we made our miraculous discovery.

            We could hardly believe our eyes when we saw it! We seemed to have stumbled across some ancient mountain chateau. Obviously, manmade with bold, almost Grecian architecture, pillars of the natural stone, a dark black in color. If you were to look up, you could see the sky far overhead and the mountains surrounding us on all sides. We stood in awe, shocked at this thing we had never expected to find in seemingly the center of the mountains we had just chanced to decide upon exploring.

            It was not long before our shock wore off, however, and our scientific minds began to race over each other, shouting possibilities, and theories, several of our men rushing off to explore, and take samples of the rock, looking for any artifacts that might be found. Dr. Sharpe and I accompanied Mr. Grey as he took photographs, nearly trembling at the thought of being the first person to do so. 

            “This is amazing,” Sharpe said to me, awed almost beyond words. “I never expected…”

            None of us had. This expedition had been made to be of mostly a biological and geological nature. Instead we had seemingly stumbled upon the anthropological discovery of the century. None of us had been prepared for it, but we were all beyond astounded at the prospects. And what would our peers back home think when we returned with this amazing information?!

After exploring as long as we had light for, we retire back to the camp to discuss our find. In addition to samples of the peculiar black stone, Dr. Mallory and Dr. Thorne retrieved some pieces from inside one of the empty rooms of the chateau. Pottery shards, and other small things that must have belonged to whatever civilization had been and was now gone. These they set out on a table, and poured over, trying to figure out what these strange artifacts were made of.

            Mr. Grey had set up a darkroom in one of the tents to develop his photographs, and we sat pouring over these after supper, exclaiming over the architecture and trying to place the period it might have been created.

            “You know,” Dr. Mallory mused eventually, puffing on his pipe. “There is the legend of Rupes Nigra to consider.”

            “The black rock,” I said thoughtfully, remembering the story of the explorers from several hundred years earlier who had claimed to find a huge magnetic black rock at the North Pole, which supposedly explained why compasses always pointed north. “Perhaps there is some truth to the tale after all.”

            “And yet nowhere in the tales was anything like this described,” Dr. Sharpe said, tapping one of the photographs that showed the intricate architecture of our find. “This isn’t some magnetic black rock. This is an entire lost civilization!”

            Indeed, it seemed we had been extremely fortunate in our discovery.

October 4^th

Our luck of the previous day seems to have run out. A snowstorm blew in overnight, making it impossible for us to leave our camp. We had feared we might have difficulties with storms even this early in the season, but in light of our discovery, even the thought of a day cooped up in camp was giving everyone a case of cabin fever.

            That and the wind is howling eerily through the mountains, putting everyone on edge without any of us really knowing why. It is a haunting tune, sure enough, almost lyrical, and yet it is just the wind, and as long as we stay inside our fortified tents, it cannot harm us.

October 6^th

The snowstorm has finally stopped, and with it the ceasing of the wailing winds that battered us for two full days and nights. Everyone seems to be in better spirits now that we know we can leave camp.

It appears I spoke too soon about our good fortune. As we gathered for breakfast, Dr. Mallory did not join us. Mr. Grey, who is sharing a tent with him said he was not in his cot when he woke up, thinking he was already back in the main tent looking over his findings again.

Upon inspection, it appears that Dr. Mallory is nowhere in the camp at all. It is possible, of course, that he woke early and proceeded into the mountain as soon as the storm ceased, but I find that rather unlikely considering he is usually a sensible sort. I don’t think even two days of being cooped up from the storm would make him lose his senses like that.

            It appears we will have to forgo furthering our exploration for today and look for our lost colleague instead.

October 7^th

This expedition has begun to take a rather strange turn. We spent all of the previous day trying to find out what had happened to Dr. Mallory or where he might have gone. No tracks were found leaving camp even though the snow had settled after the storm and should have plainly shown us if anyone left the camp. The only explanation for that was that Mallory had left the camp before the storm ended, or he was still here, neither of which made any sense.

            After a day looking, we retired back to camp, perplexed to say the least, but not nearly as much as we were this morning when Dr. Mallory walked into the tent while we were having breakfast.

            He stood there for a moment, as we all gaped at him, and then simply collapsed in a faint upon the ground.

            Once we overcame out shock at seeing our colleague returned, we bundled him onto a cot by the heaters and examined him for injuries, but found none.

            Dr. Sharpe was the only one who tried to come up with any explanation, saying that it was likely a case of delirium brought on by the incessant storm and the snow blindness. He could have left the tent for a call of nature and become disoriented in the night, losing his bearings and only now finding his way back.

            None of us, including Sharpe really believed that, however. Especially when we saw traces of dark pebbles in the treads of Dr. Mallory’s boots when we took them off to dry them.

October 8^th

After another long night, all of us taking turns by Mallory’s bedside in case he woke, we were on edge, still unsatisfied that we had no explanation for what had happened.

            It was around mid-morning when Mallory woke, but he seemed to be in some delirious state, only half-awake, unable to recognize any of us and extremely agitated.

            “Mallory, you are safe,” I tried to assure him. 

            He simply shook his head, tossing back and forth, his eyes wide and darting to-and-fro as if in a fever dream.

            “The singing,” he finally whispered. “It’s in my head. It’s in my head!” His voice rose and he reached up to clench at his head, his hands gripping his hair as if threatening to tear it out. Dr. Sharpe and I quickly tried to restrain him, but he only seemed to grow more agitated. Then, to our horror, began babbling in some unintelligible language.

            “He’s gone mad,” Sharpe muttered, horror in his eyes.

            Eventually, when his fit didn’t cease, we thought it best to dose him with laudanum, which thankfully calmed him down and helped him sleep again. 

Tonight, another storm has come upon us. Mallory is restless again, waking more frequently and always with the same thing. Gibberish and complaining about a ‘song’ stuck in his head. 

            Outside, the wind has begun wailing. I can’t imagine it will help Mallory. Its persistence is almost enough to make me sympathize with him.

            

October 9^th

I was woken in the middle of the night by Mr. Grey. We had all decided to sleep in the main tent as the storm had picked up and this was the soundest structure we had. It had been Grey’s turn to watch Dr. Mallory and we had all gone to bed to the hair-raising sound of the shrieking wind.

            “Shelby!” he said desperately, shaking me awake. “Mallory is gone!”

            He had apparently gone to answer a call of nature and when he came back, Mallory, who he thought he had left sleeping soundly, was no longer in the tent.

            I threw aside my blankets to cast around. Sharpe and several others woke at the commotion and helped us, getting more lights on in the tent. 

            “Shelby, over here!”

            I turned to see Grey and Thorne standing at the entrance to the tent, peeling back the flaps, which were quickly caught by the wind, letting frigid air into our small sanctuary.

            “What are you doing?” I demanded, going over to them.

            However, when I looked past their shoulders, I saw a figure standing out in the snow, in only socks, trousers and shirtsleeves. It was Mallory.

            “Sharpe!” I called and my college joined me.

            “Mallory!” he shouted but his voice was taken and swallowed by the wind. It was wailing even more, the sound so eerily lyrical, it sent goosepimples over my back and belly and sent the hair standing up on my neck. 

            Grey and Thorne were already putting on their gear, and I turned to do the same when I saw Mallory turn around and stare at something in the snow-swept darkness. I could not see anything, but he reached out.

            “What is he doing?” Sharpe asked, both of us frozen in the spot as we watched the strange spectacle before us.

            Thorne and Grey pushed past us and hurried into the snow, but a particularly bad gust of wind rattled the tent, tugging harshly at the canvas, nearly knocking Sharpe and I over. The others were trying to contain the things inside the tent and Sharpe and I hurried to grab our coats and rush out toward Grey and Thorne as they staggered toward Mallory.

            Or to where Mallory had been.

            “Where is he?” Sharpe demanded.

            “I don’t know!” Grey called back. “He was there and then he…he wasn’t.”

            I looked around, the wind biting my face and the sound of it shrieking though the nearby mountains…a pounding started behind my eyes and the shrieking began to sound like a song…

            “Shelby!” Sharpe dragged me back toward the tent and we battened the flap down again, all of us panting and disturbed by what we had witnessed.

            “There was nothing you could do,” I assured my colleagues, and perhaps myself. “Mallory was seeing things that weren’t there. We can only hope he’s gone to a better place now. That he’ll be at peace.”

            It didn’t sit well with any of us though. There was just something about what had happened to Mallory that wasn’t right. Wasn’t natural. 

October 10^th

In light of what happened to Dr. Mallory, we have all decided it best to head back to our base camp and regroup, perhaps come back to the strange black rock chateau later in the expedition. All of us silently agreed that we didn’t want to be around it anymore.

            We looked briefly for a body, but all trace of Joseph Mallory seemed to have disappeared, even after digging in the snow for a bit. 

            I think all of us felt a little relieved as we finished packing up the camp onto the sleds and started on our way back to the base camp. Despite the enormity of our miraculous find, there was undeniably something about it that disturbed us all just a bit.

October 12^th

We’ve been traveling back to base camp for two days now, and have been forced to stop as it looks like yet another one of the freak storms is cropping up. We can see the clouds gathering over the mountains behind us. We can only hope it won’t reach us, but I doubt that we will be so lucky. I’ve already had a persistent headache all day, most likely due to the low pressure. 

Sure enough, as night falls, the storm has come upon us. I hope our makeshift camp will hold. What I find strangest is that even without the mountains near, the wind is still making a horrible racket. I don’t know how as there is nothing for it to blow past. It’s all flat out here. Just snow.

It’s not the wind.

October 13^th

I will try to describe the events of the previous night as well as I can. I’m sure you can tell by the quality of my writing that even now my hand is shaking to think about it.

Just after we all retired for the night, our tent took on a particularly persistent gust of wind. Some of the pegs were ripped from the ground, and Sharpe, several other men, and myself rushed out into the snow to hammer them back in, and see what we could do to fortify them. 

            We were in the process of doing this when the shrieking of the wind became nearly deafening, forcing all of us to stop what we were doing and cover our ears.

            “What the devil is that?” Sharpe demanded, eyes wide with horror.

            I caught something out of the corner of my eye, and turned, heart in my throat, only to see that there was nothing there. 

            The shrieking was discombobulating, but we finished our work, until we heard a shout and looked up to see Mr. Grey running toward us.

            “Shelby! Dr. Thorne is gone and so are Drake and Simmons!”

            “What?” I demanded, not really understanding. The shrieking burrowing into my head and making the ache I’d had all day intensify.

            “They got this strange look in their eyes and just walked out into the snow!” Grey told us.

            “Shelby, we need to get inside,” Sharpe said, voice shaking, and not from the cold.

            We started back around to the tent entrance, and something in the shrieking wind changed. A haunting voice rose out of it, like two instruments finally finding a harmony, and the snow danced before us.

            Thorne, Drake and Simmons appeared before us, walking through the snow, past our sleds and out of camp. Back towards the mountains we had left.

            We all tried shouting for them in vain. And we could hardly hear ourselves over the strange inexplicable music that I could no longer mistake for simply the wind.

            “Shelby, inside!”

            We hurried back to the tent and I grabbed Grey by his shoulder. 

            “Get your camera, and take pictures of the surroundings,” I told him with a sudden thought.

            He looked at me as if I had lost my mind. I began to think I had.

            “Nothing will show up in this storm,” he protested.

            “Just do it!” I insisted, clutching my head. The shrieking wind was a little better now, not as loud. I glanced toward Sharpe and saw he looked just as disturbed as I felt. At least I wasn’t the only one.

            Grey took several photos outside, and then I practically bullied him into developing them in a makeshift darkroom that we set up.

            When the photos developed, I saw he had been right, even with the flash there was little to be seen in them.

            Except for one.

            This photo showed some dark, shadowy figure standing out in the snow. It had no real shape, and yet it was definitely something.It was certainly not any of our lost colleagues, that we could all agree upon.

            We are not alone out here.

Whatever happened last night, the storm has ceased now, though we have now lost four of our team, and I dread to know what else we will encounter. 

            The only thing we are sure of is that there is somethingout there in the snow. Whether it is some form of life of this world or another, I cannot say, but I am certain it has something to do with the black rock chateau that we found. 

            We packed up directly for the base camp. We cannot stand the thought of staying out here another day.

October 15^th

We’ve made it back to the base camp and are now making preparations to leave. The ice is already forming in the ocean around us, but if we leave now we may be able to get out before we are trapped here, and—heaven help me—I cannot even imagine the thought of being trapped up here with whatever is out in the snow.

            It is a shame that our scientific exploration has been cut short and yet we are all in agreement that we can no longer stay here. 

October 17^th

None of us are sleeping. We are all on edge. I can hardly stand to close my eyes as behind my eyelids I see that thing in Grey’s photograph. I cannot bear to consider what has happened to our lost colleagues. I find myself hoping that they are, in fact, dead, as the alternatives defy imagination.

Preparations to leave are going slower than any of us wish. I grow more agitated by the hour as the fear of staying here wears on me.

October 18^th

My head is aching. There is a sound it in, like a song. A song I cannot seem to hear nor get out of my head. It keeps getting louder and louder.

A storm is rolling in.

Dr. Shelby’s journal ends here. A rescue exploration was sent in 1907 when his expedition didn’t return when they were supposed to. The base camp was found completely deserted, their ship half packed. No bodies or trace of any of the men were found, only this journal, and the attached photographs, along with the few archeological finds taken from the ruins of the ‘black chateau’. To this day, what happened to Dr. Shelby’s team is a mystery.

~~~~~~~

Author’s Note

I have always loved the unknown qualities of Arctic exploration but I don’t know much about the mechanics of it and didn’t have time to research so this is probably not at all accurate. This story was inspired by Lovecraft’s “The Mountains of Madness”