The Voice

A Story by Mark Raines

A person hears an whispers

The stale air of the Blackwood Mine hung heavy, thick with the scent of damp earth, forgotten dust, and something else… something acrid and metallic. Alex’s headlamp cut a shaky swathe through the absolute darkness, revealing the rough-hewn timbers shoring up the collapsing tunnel. He muttered Liam’s name, the sound swallowed by the oppressive silence.

Liam had gone missing three days ago. The last anyone saw him, he was heading towards the old mine entrance, muttering about a strange hum he’d heard beneath the ground, a 'song' only he could discern. Alex had dismissed it as Liam’s usual eccentricities, but now, the chill in the air and the profound sense of isolation were making his skin crawl.

A glint of metal ahead. Alex quickened his pace, heart thudding against his ribs. It was Liam’s pickaxe, lying carelessly on the damp floor, the only thing out of place in this tomb-like passage. Nearby, slumped against a support beam, was his backpack. Alex snatched it up, fumbling with the zipper. Inside, nestled amongst a half-eaten energy bar and some geological tools, was Liam’s small, leather-bound journal.

He flicked it open, his thumb tracing the familiar scrawl.

Day 1: The hum is louder. It pulses. Deep, deep down. It feels… old. Like the earth itself is breathing.

Day 2: I’m deeper than I thought possible. Found a chamber not on any map. The hum vibrates in my bones here. It’s almost a whisper now. It’s telling me things.

Alex swallowed, his throat suddenly dry. He shone his light around. The tunnel seemed to narrow here, the air growing colder, carrying a faint, sickly sweet odor.

Day 3: The whispers are clearer. They call me. They promise… understanding. The chamber is… alive. The rock shifts, almost breathes. I hear other things now, too. Scuttling. Or is it… dragging? I think I saw something in the shadows. Something that moved like a broken puppet. And the hum… it’s turning into a song. A lullaby.

The last entry was smudged, half-illegible, but two words stood out, stark and terrifying: It hungers.

A low, guttural growl echoed from the darkness deeper within the mine. Alex froze, the journal falling from his trembling fingers. It wasn't the hum. It was something physical, something alive. He scrambled backwards, tripping over the pickaxe. His headlamp swung wildly, painting grotesque shadows on the walls.

The growl came again, closer this time, followed by a wet, scraping sound, like raw meat being dragged over stone. The air grew thick with that sweet, metallic odor, now overpowering, nauseating.

He could see it now, just at the edge of his headlamp’s beam. A mass of shadows, indistinct at first, then resolving into something utterly monstrous. It was impossibly large, hunched over, its limbs too long, too many. Its skin seemed slick, reflecting the faint light like polished obsidian. And at its center, where a face should be, was a matted, hairless skull, elongated and twisted, with two gaping, black holes where eyes should have been. And from those holes, not eyes, but what looked like two withered, translucent stalks pulsed faintly.

And then, it moved fully into the light.

It was Liam.

Or what was left of him.

His body was distended, bloated, the skin stretched taut and translucent in places, revealing a network of pulsating veins beneath. His spine was horribly warped, tearing through his back, leaving jagged protrusions that dripped a viscous, dark fluid onto the mine floor. His lower jaw was missing, ripped away, leaving a gaping, drooling maw that clicked and slurped. One hand was still recognizably Liam’s, though swollen and clawed, but the other… the other had merged with the rock itself, fusing with the tunnel wall, anchoring him to this horrific place.

And the sound, that wet scraping sound, was from the thing it was hunched over. A human torso, stripped clean of skin, the ribs splayed open like a grotesque cage. It was tearing at something within.

Alex screamed. A raw, guttural sound ripped from his throat, echoing endlessly in the cavern.

The monster’s head snapped up. The withered eye-stalks twitched, turning towards him. And then, a sound that would haunt Alex beyond the grave, if he were to have one: a wet, bubbling gurgle emanated from Liam’s ruined mouth, followed by words, mangled and distorted, but unmistakably Liam’s voice, rising from the horror, chilling him to the bone.

"A-A-Alex… you… you shouldn’t have c-c-come…"

Then the thing that was Liam lurched forward, surprisingly fast, its elongated, warped limbs propelling it. It slammed into the tunnel wall, splintering the aged timbers. Alex scrambled back, tripping and falling, his headlamp spinning away into the darkness, leaving him in absolute, suffocating black.

He heard the scraping again, closer, faster. The wet, tearing sounds. The stench of decay and fresh blood filled his nostrils. He tried to crawl, tried to scream again, but his voice caught in his throat, replaced by a ragged sob.

A massive, slick hand clamped around his ankle, its grip like an iron vise. He was dragged, helplessly, back towards the center of the chamber, his body bouncing off the jagged rocks. He could feel sharp, splintered edges digging into his flesh.

He screamed then, a high, desperate sound of pure terror and agony.

The creature loomed over him, its ruined jaw clicking, its distorted, pulsing eye-stalks fixed on his face. He felt something hot and wet drip onto his forehead. The last thing he saw, in the faint ambient glow of the pulsing eye-stalks, was the true, utter void in Liam’s gaze.

Then, a sickening crack as the creature’s immense, bone-fused hand came down, crushing his chest. Air burst from his lungs in a dying gasp. Blood welled in his throat, hot and metallic.

And as the world faded to black, as the agony consumed him, he heard Liam's voice again, a raspy, guttural whisper, right next to his ear, resonating deep within his skull, wet with the taste of his own blood.

"Scream no more, my friend."

Then, silence. Only the wet, tearing sounds. The hunger continued.