‘I work in a British police force, and I feel like the details of this case need to be shared’

The following is a series of posts cross-posted from the r/UKMysteries subreddit. They were posted some time in summer 2013 by the user /u/HulloThere32.

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I’ve lived all my life in the kinda green, pleasant countryside that you have to think people believe all of England is like before they get here. My house is a pretty little semi-detached affair, a dairy farm on the one side and miles of quaint old fields spread over rolling chalk hills in all other directions. You don’t have to walk very far in any direction to find sunny little woodland patches around the place, always full of the buzz of bees and the laughter of children walking their dogs.

God it’s dull around here, though.

Anyways, I’m gonna try and cut this short (I don’t know how long I’ve got until our shitty internet cuts out- fibre-optic hasn’t reached our part of the world yet), and try and describe what I saw this evening.

Trying to break the monotony of the same old internet reposts and ancient Simpsons episodes, I decided to head out on a walk. I cut my way across a field of barley, heading towards a fairly near and large patch of woodland, wanting to take my mind off the stresses of a teenager’s life in the summer (spoilers- there aren’t any) and go off the beaten track a little.

The sun had only set an hour or so ago, and, this being Britain, there were plenty of clouds to bounce the light about. The woods were still nice and light, and I wasn’t afraid at all. Well, I wasn’t.

There was one bit of forest that wasn’t light, a dark thicket off away from the path a ways. Feeling like it was as good a place as any to head for, I went out across the leaf litter to take a closer look.

Something about the place seemed just… Wrong to me. The birch trees which made up most of the woods were there, but they were twisted, ill. I almost gave up, but some intangible, bizarre force told me to persevere. I broke my way through the trees, and saw something that just seemed so, so out of place.

There was some sort of monolith, or obelisk, or, I don’t really know what the word is. It was probably twice as high as me, and dark, dark green. I stepped forwards to touch it and felt something crunch beneath my feet.

Scattered around the object were various bits and pieces that looked as if they’d come from the sea- ships in bottles, sea shells, even the skeletons of dead fish. I lifted my foot to see what I’d trod on, and, bizarrely, there was a delicate little Victorian porcelain doll, dressed as a sailor and missing the head, now a pile of muddy shards.

I didn’t have time to be spooked before the now familiar urge to touch the monolith returned. I stepped slowly forwards, time seeming to dilate and slow even as my heart rate grew. I could feel sweat beginning to break on my forehead as my hand inched forwards. Suddenly, the spell was abruptly broken by some sort of screaming noise from deeper into the woods. I fitfully scanned the trees, ready to run, before I realised how dark it was. The noise was just a fox, I reasoned, and, taking one brief glance around at the dark mass of the monolith, I set out back home.

Since I got back, I’ve been trying to find any record of anything like that out there. There are plenty of obelisks and the like across the world, but none of them seem the same. I’ve visited Stonehenge and the like, but it just seemed… Different. At once it seemed to be angled and not, and, although it was in such better condition than the henge, the whole place just reeks of immeasurable age.

The one thing I just can’t get my head around is the connection to the sea. This… Thing is right in the center of the home counties, just about as far away from the sea as you can get here. It’s not even anywhere near a river, for crying out loud.

I don’t really know if this is the right place to post this, but it seems like most of you people tend to put up your mysteries like this. Has anyone come across anything like this? Surely I can’t be the only one in the internet who’s seen this kinda thing, and I’m certainly not the only one who wants to know. Tomorrow I’m gonna get out there during the day and try and get a better scope of it, so be on the look out for an update in the next few days.

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Thanks for some of your suggestions on my previous post- as I said it doesn’t remind me of any standing stone or monument I’ve come across. It has occurred to me that the whole thing is just a rather peculiar folly, especially given that several of the objects seem to be from the Victorian era, but given the inconsistency in these dates and the great age of both the obelisk and the trees around it, this just doesn’t seem to fit. And, for those of you asking, unfortunately I can’t get a picture of the thing because my phone broke a week or so ago and I haven’t got a replacement yet.

Before I tell you about the strange developments that today’s brought, I feel like I should let you know about the dream I had last night.

Sleep didn’t come easily to me. The air was hot and humid, and, worse, I just couldn’t get that wretched artefact out of my head. I was so close to it, and some inexorable pull just kept telling me to go explore it. Eventually, though, sheer exhaustion must have pulled me under, but obviously the Thing must have kept its influence even then. That night, my dream seemed to be locked to the monolith, as if I was watching the land melt and change around it. The forest showed its youth as it disappeared around the monolith, replaced with vast, open grasslands, and then an ice cave and a slowly shifting glacier. Again, a huge savanna surrounded it’s mass, transitioning gently back into dense, tropical jungle. Eventually, even the hills themselves melted away, and the plants that so dominated the fleeting landscape f retreated back and died. The rocky terrain still shifted and devolved, turning into sandy, muddy flatlands and, eventually, islands, as the sea at last met the pillar.

It only struck me once I had woken in the morning what the most truly bizarre aspect was. All throughout the ages, the ring of nautical trinkets had never left. Strange fish and crustaceans populated the unchanging circle of flat ground that surrounded it, and I’m pretty sure I even saw some sort of plesiosaur corpse lying there at one point.

Anyway, once I’d got up, I felt the incessant urge to get going once again. I could barely sit down for breakfast, and as soon as I’d got my stuff together, I went straight out, mumbling some sort of weak excuse to my parents about going to my friends house. In retrospect I don’t know why I was so reticent with my parents about this, but I just thought that, well, this was my curiosity, and mine alone.

Once I got to that dark knot in the woods though, that all changed. Someone had left a fish there, and a fresh one. The salmon looked at me apathetically as I stepped over it to the monolith. Even in the light of day, it was darkly impressive. The light seemed to just wither and die at it’s green surface, and I had to feel my way around it to fully understand its angles. It seemed to bend and turn quite unlike anything I’ve experienced before, and something about it’s geometry just seemed… Wrong. Surprisingly, it’s smooth surface was warm to the touch, and touching it I could only remember the warm, ancient seas I had dreamt of the previous night.

The strangest thing about the sensation of touching the thing was how it seemed to cause some sort of… Olfactory hallucination? Touching it brought with it a stench of the sea at low tide, of great mud flats that really should stay under the seas, and a constant, pervading bromine smell.

I glanced at my watch to find that nearly an hour had passed as I stood there, just taking the scene in. I had to physically shake myself to regain control and let go of the thing. Even as I prised my fingers away, it called me back, and I decided that I needed to keep having a look around.

Coming around the side of their It, I dragged my hand across the edge, getting a feel of the shape. As my fingers traced the smooth, warm rock, they snagged on something. Carved into the surface of the monolith was some sort of ladder, a little to short and a little to wide to be comfortable, and with a third set of holes in the centre. Again, I felt the urge to approach the structure, and I quickly clambered up the rock.

I’m still trying to figure out what the fuck I found up there.

The top looked much like the rest of it as far as surface was concerned. I checked my watch- the time was 1.40 in the afternoon- and took another look. The green rock here was staggered downwards towards the centre, where an 11-sided hole had been cut into the rock. In here was some sort of reliquary, a magnificently ornamented box. It shone as if the sun was shining directly on it, despite how weakly the light penetrated the thick old trees around it. The edges were made of some golden material, but more lustrous, hinting at some weird alloy. The whole top was a curiously hinged porthole, constructed of pure, glittering quartz.

As fabulous as the container was, it paled in comparison to the artefact within. It was a beautifully carven chunk of obsidian, seeming to flow like waves. It was… Awesome… In the power of its grace. I felt tears stream from my eyes as I took in the pure excellence of its form. Strange motifs, unrepeatable with human hand, played across its surface, changing, disappearing, and appearing again in stranger form as the light of the sun and some strange inner luminosity illuminated it.

I know I shouldn’t have, but I just couldn’t stop myself. My heart seemed to speed up and slow down as, hands quivering, I lifted the exquisite lid from the box. I reached down with divine reverence and, crying with pleasure, I felt my fingers touch the silken rock surface.

I don’t remember falling, or the pain as my back bruised and I winded myself. I barely remember the journey back home, or seeing how the sun had gone down and a chilly night had descended while I examined the terrifying beauty of the top of the pedestal.

What I do remember, though, are the visions. I saw beyond my dreams of before, to the monstrously inhuman cities, on the land and the sea, that had been built around the monolith. I remember the dark cities in ancient deserts of the Antarctic and the dense fungal forests of North America. I remember the 11-hulled galleons of the archaic navies that circled the one huge continent of eons before. I remember the terror of a super volcano bursting forth, and the terror as life was banished to subterranean cities in colossal caves, both natural and artificial.

And worse, I remember those that built those cities. Colossal amphibian things, seven sided arthropod bodies mounted on three slimy, furred legs, and eleven sided heads, one sense to each face, mounted on a thick, slug-like neck. And, worst, I remember the horrific realisation that I was seeing though the three-lobed flaming eye of one of these beasts.

I only snapped out of it once I’d returned home. My mum scolded me for returning so late, and sent me to my bed without food. In all truth, though, I’m not sure I could manage to eat after what I’ve seen.

I’m writing this in my bed, and no matter what I do, under my lids plays out before me what I saw through that monster’s eye, and the strange new senses I experienced. What troubles me the most, however, is that I still have no idea where that wretched object has come from. Even those ancient amphibian beings seemed wary of it, and, though I believe they built the monolith, there was a certain sense of impenetrable mystery over the artefact within the reliquary.

No doubt I shall dream tonight.

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Well, I’ve found out where the artefact hails from, and I’ve never been more terrified.

Last night, I eventually managed to sleep after what seemed like years of seeing those primordial horrors over and over again. Immediately, I was plunged back into the horrors I had seen before. Somehow, I understood the strange, pseudo-telepathic language of the creatures which, for convenience’s sake, I shall call Heptagons on account of their seven-sided, prismatic shape. It seemed that we were under attack from a strange threat out of space. We fought against them as best we could, but they only appeared as furred, tentacles presences at the corners of our vision. Despite how poorly we fared in this corner of the great ancient civilisation, I got the impression that elsewhere upon what I still believe was our Earth the battle fared poorly for the unworldly attackers.

Despite how ferociously we fought, we lost. However they were camouflaging themselves, they stopped as they saw us lying there, dead or dying. It was then that I saw it.

The obsidian object sparkled under the light of a young sun as it was produced from out of one of the furry creatures. It was held in a crude container now, an object of war, not of reverence. The steel box was rusted as if it had been pulled from the sea, and it was towards the ocean that they now carried it.

The heptagon which I was possessing died from its wounds as they retreated towards the sea shore. As they left, so did I from the many-sided creature I was a part of. I felt a peculiar numbing sensation as my perspective changed and I entered one of the apish tentacles beings and took stock of it’s form. It had about 23 thick tentacles sprouting from the orange, furry thorax, and these split chaotically into smaller, more dextrous limbs, roughly analogous to fingers. The face was surprising to feel, though. One eye for each primary colour was placed around a central combined nose and mouth, consisting of three fleshy mandibles in a Y shape. The eyes were each shaped like a jelly bean, turned so that the concave section faced out from the mouth. It left me with an odd sensation of staring out from my mouth as we moved along on my one snail-like foot.

At last, we reached the shoreline. The commander, missing several limbs, ordered us to place the object at the very edge, where crystalline waves lapped a lifeless shore. The language these creatures used was in turns fascinating and revolting. A thick gurgling song from somewhere within the body told the vague outline while a strange clicking from the mouth added specifics and description. Altogether, I preferred the comforting, internal language of the Heptagons.

The officer slid forwards, gurgling a prayer as the others chanted along. They seemed to be praying to some deity of the seas of a Saturnine moon, where I believe that they travelled from. The commander picked up the horrific artefact and, with the reverence of a priest performing a sacrifice, threw the item into the seas.

As soon as the object hit the waters, a sharp, piercing noise emanated from the seas perhaps a mile away from us. The artefact propelled itself as cracks burst from its silken surface. I felt like crying as I saw it break and head away from us, but I was too enraptured by the process to really mind.

Suddenly, a groan as of a ship beaching itself grew out of the deeper reaches of the oceans. The beings whooped and cheered to the gods as something emerged from the ocean.

I don’t know what I’d expected, but whatever it was, it was less terrible than what I was seeing now. Even the first glimpses of the heptagons had been less horrifying than what I saw now.

Its size was unimaginable. The water it displaced as it appeared formed a towering wave as it approached. I could barely take in the eldritch god that stood before us. Tentacles miles across supported it as it lumbered towards us and roared, a deep, earth-shaking sound that resounded within whatever I had instead of bones. It’s head looked like a mix between an octopus and a shark as it turned its slimy, predatory visage towards the land, and began to gallop forwards, dark, stony green flesh quivering as it let out another exultant roar.

I don’t know how, but somehow, it was defeated. The heptagons made the ape-squids extinct, and somehow they banished the deity back into that wretched artefact. A sort of superstition built up around the sacred reliquary and its monument, where people, wary of the thing that dwelt within, tried to appease it.

I can’t describe to you the effect this dream has had on me. I awoke to find that I had wet the bed for the first time in 13 years, and what wasn’t piss-stained was drenched in sweat. I haven’t eaten today, and I’ve barely managed to hold down a conversation with my family. I leap at every shadow and every noise, and every time I close my eyes those fucking creatures are behind them. I wish I’d never come across that bloody plinth and that I’d never gone into those woods.

And yet I still want to go back there.

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I did go back, and I’m pretty sure the only way to end this insanity is my death. This post is my suicide note.

To my family, I apologise. You never did anything wrong, and I love you all. I’m so sorry that I’m doing this, but know that there is no other help for me. I wouldn’t be doing this if I could see a better way out. In a way, I’m doing this for your sakes and my own.

I had another dream. I am not the only one to have found this eldritch spire in the woods, one has gone before me. I can’t explain much, he forced me to swear against describing him in too much detail. He used to be human, more susceptible to these phenomena perhaps, but human nonetheless. Then, however, the Thing in the artefact spoke to him, moulded him, and made him something… More. It whispered to him, spoke to him, sent to him the same terrible visions that I have seen, but he was able to keep them at bay. For centuries, he brought offerings to it, appeasing it, stopping it from getting out.

He told me that, now it has two in its power, this will not be enough. Since I found the thing, he has been tormented by far more violent and more potent visions than before. I, however, have had one scene playing over and over within my head- that frightful occasion, eons ago, where the being emerged, and one message, repeated over and over.

“Release me.”

I know that you won’t believe me, thinking that this is some paranoid delusion or schizophrenic manifestation. If you want to find the reason for my suicide, though, search the woods. Stray off the beaten track. Find the knot of trees, and climb the monolith.

Just don’t touch the artefact.

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Searching through the local news papers of England at the time, one can find the strange tale of a tragic teenage suicide and his strange writings on the internet. Out of respect for his family, I shall not name him. Another story surfaces a couple of weeks later, of a strange object found by the police force in connection to this case. This details an archaeological discovery of a bizarrely geometric monolith, 4.3 metres by 52 centimetres, and fashioned of ancient, dark olivine. The object was of indeterminable, yet obviously immense age, and was thought to have been of ritual use due to the strange motifs on the top surface and the strange, eleven-sided hole that lay there, empty.

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Author’s Note- I wrote this a couple of weeks ago and posted it to reddit.com/r/nosleep, (original link here), but I felt like it deserved to be reposted here. I’m really pleased how this turned out, and, if you wanna read what inspired it (and I highly recommend you do), it was inspired by a Lovecraft story called The Shadow out of Time. Thanks for reading!

Follow me at https://twitter.com/JethroReading!

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