This is not just a story, perhaps one day it will be. But for now, it is real my love.

I wish you would believe me. I wish for you to live in fear as I do. Maybe this fear can keep you safe.

Fear keeps us ever vigilant, it keeps us from trespassing the boundaries marked by nature. Those desolate places where man struggled to conquer for as long as our selfish needs have led us. Things lurk there…

Things of such monumental proportion that our very existence tethers on their being.

I know we have talked about what happened in Nelspruit. And I know I said that I would try to stop. But I have tried and I failed.

All medical options have been exhausted. Only the illegal ones helped for a fleeting moment.

Your father suggested the holy bible and the systematic weekly visit to church. But the lack of results has led me down a darker path in search of sanctuary.

By the end of today, I shall be no more. I shall seek my final sanctuary that only death can provide. I will try not to leave a mess.

Do not blame the drugs, nor my ill state of mind for this letter and for what is to come. Blame what is inside all of us who refuse to listen.

I will always love you – Amelia

Being an anthropologist made me happy, but happiness had a price.  A price that left me broke, and so far gone that I have a mountain of debt that no one could ever dream of climbing. Before I continue, I must declare that I stopped taking my prescribed medicine. No amount of pills will remove the dread that wakes me every night, nor the anxiety of a person being hunted, because that’s what I was at the caves. I was being hunted! I know you don’t believe me, none of you do. So I will tell it once more on paper so that the story will remain even though I am gone.

I decided to base my studies on the Sudwala caves in Nelspruit, Mpumalanga, South Africa. The caves were home to the most ancient people known as ‘Homo habilis’ somewhat two million years ago. The remnants of these people are fascinating but it was the more recent events that gained my interest. The caves provided sanctuary for a Swazi prince during the nineteenth century. Prince Somquba led a rebellion against his brother King Mswati second of his name. The king’s forces vastly overpowered the young prince forcing them to retreat into a cave where there was no escaping from. The king’s men barricaded the Prince and his army inside the cave and set the debris on fire.

Oven-like fire scorched the nearby vegetation, heat glowing from within the cave. It was like staring into the gates of hell.

The king ordered that the fires burn for three days to suffocate the cave’s inhabitants. Remains of the fire were removed on the fourth day and the king’s men rushed inside.

Hours later, the young prince’s captain Sudwala and a handful of his men emerged from the cave. Those outside trembled in fear at the sight of those that emerged for they carried a dark presence with them.

Both the king and the young prince were pronounced dead. No one was allowed in the cave, but those who managed to trespass whispered their stories around campfires late at night. Stories of a giant monster’s head made of stone and a great gaping maw bathed in blood, littered with pieces of the fallen.

Some spotted remnants of ancient rituals that were performed, these rituals were banned and all knew that only death came to those that sought power by contacting the ‘Old ones’.

I would be the first to officially document these rituals. My name would be immortalized and perhaps studied by generations of anthropologists to come.

By chance, a family friend named Reinhardt visited Pretoria and offered a ride back to Nelspruit with him. Reinhardt was a proper Boer with his khaki outfit completed with leather sandals. He would wear this outfit every day, come snow, rain or the strongest of winds, a Boer would wear this exact outfit. His family owned one of the largest tree plantations for paper manufacturing, and he knew his way well around the area of my interest.

I felt at ease, trading the busy streets of Pretoria for the beautiful golden flat plains that melted into the blue distant mountains. Lonely lakes and ponds resided in these yellow grasslands where horses and cattle grazed next to the road.  Birds of prey, rodents, and fish are plentiful, and grew ever more so – the further I distanced myself from the grey city.

Reinhardt and I spoke of the many farmers in the area that have been growing trees since the late 1800s. Some grew Bluegum for the mines, others grew Eucalyptus for paper and pulp. The conversation died down at times, and the silence made Reinhardt nervous. I guess he spends his time alone or surrounded by men.

Nelspruit approached in the distance with millions of tall dark woods spreading over the wild hills into the distance. My head rested against the window, staring into the endless rows of trees rushing by as Reinhardt raced past the speed limit. I kept my eyes still on one focal point while the dark pine trees rushed by, creating an illusion of a gateway such as in a motion picture. A clearing of trees felled long ago greeted us from time to time, revealing the beautiful blue mountains lined with tall dark trees planted in formation. The mountains were like waves frozen in time, where one has depression, another behind it rose in the distance, “A cascading horizon”.

The journey was quiet if not for the topics of trees or wildlife, so I decided to tell him of my purpose as an anthropologist. I started with an interesting story regarding the ‘demon tree’. A fig tree that is said to grow between the Sudwala Caves and the Sabie River. It was then that I noticed how conservative he was, for he believed that there is no such thing as a ‘demon tree’, his God would not allow such a thing. 

I have studied many religions, cultures, and personal beliefs, enough to doubt that any of them are real. But what is real are the stories that they tell, stories that shaped the decisions that were made and how culture developed. Which is why I changed the subject to something that he could relate to… 

South African Boer pride. 

I told him of the Sudwala cave, not the part about how old it is, he would probably argue the facts since time began close to the birth of Christ according to him. I told him of the possibility that Paul Kruger resided in the Cave on his way to Mozambique, followed up with a fun fact that some say his gold is still hidden in there somewhere. He nodded now and then, hiding his awkwardness behind his smile for the rest of the somewhat uncomfortable journey.

We arrived, and a chaperone greeted us in the parking lot. Victor and Martha were both dressed in white button-down shirts and black jeans. Victor grabbed my bags and made off to my room while Martha guided me to a much-needed dinner. Reinhardt decided to stay as the warm welcome enticed him to at least try the food.

Martha was the Caves’ guide and historian and promised that she would be the one to take me through the cave after dinner as it gets quite busy during the day. I was excited to have a private tour of the caves and even more excited to learn about the current local beliefs and culture.

I invited Reinhardt to join since he lived close by but never had the chance to explore the caves. At first, he was reluctant, constantly observing his watch as if he had somewhere else to be and politely declining ambiguously. But he soon forgot about the time, as the food and conversation seemed to be to his liking.

Dinner drew to an end as we made our way to the caves.

We walked past Reinhardt’s car which was parked on some gravel that covered an old road with the cave nestled into the mountain across the hotel parking lot. Victor mentioned that he was jealous that I could take a ride in Reinhardt’s Mercedes and expressed his love of cars by asking Reinhardt questions that went right over my head. He enjoyed Victor’s conversation which seemed to have relaxed the poor man, after which he then decided to join our private guided tour.

Victor went back to the hotel to fetch a few pieces of equipment while Martha, Reinhardt and I spoke of the cave’s history and how it remained intact in comparison to other large cave systems that have all suffered under the ever-moving tectonic plates. I probed for some information regarding the civil war between the young prince and the imposter king. Martha immediately brought up the topic of the ‘banned’ rituals she said as she made quotations with her fingers. She believed that everyone was entitled to believe in whatever they wanted and exercise their religion as long as it brought no harm to those around them. Reinhardt frowned at this statement and was about to say something ‘not so Christian’ in the name of Christianity but I interrupted him by responding with the events that followed the banned rituals which cost the lives of many who entered the cave. Martha said that the same rituals are being performed to this day and to her knowledge, no one has been harmed because of it.

Less than an hour before midnight, Victor arrived carrying a torch, he said that he usually went with Martha on the night tours to keep her safe from the evil spirits that reside in the caves.

Martha started the tour and exhibited her practised presentation word by word. She told us about the cave being the oldest cave system on our planet and the evidence of cavemen and their tools and markings that were found. She explained how large the cave systems were and how deep they went, further elaborating how difficult it was to traverse and why modern technology wasn’t up to the task.

We arrived at the spot where spelunkers would descend to the Crystal Caves right next to a strange formation of stalagmites, and stalactites called ‘The Screaming Monster’. Martha demonstrated where to stand to catch a good angle of the stone monster’s mouth. The stone formation resembled a dragon’s maw screaming in agony as if mother earth chose this location to display the hurt brought upon this world by man.

I realized that this was the exact spot where the rituals took place during the war that was waged within that very space. I started asking questions but Victor silenced Martha when she was about to answer. He made it clear that we would not speak of such things unless we were prepared for the consequences brought by evil. He took the moment of silence to state condescendingly that we were not ready in the slightest.

A sense of unease was in the air and it was clear that I was not going to get anything out of her while Victor was around. As the tour went on I took my chance to gather information about the rituals from Martha when Victor was occupied elsewhere. Martha seemed excited to answer my questions much like a child would enjoy hiding notes from their teacher in a classroom.

As the tour was nearing its end Martha told me of the rituals that happen inside the cave every night. That sentence caught my attention as I would do anything to be able to observe such an event. She further explained that the ritual would be happening one floor below our feet at that very moment. My excitement could not be higher. I desperately wanted to attend this ritual but would have no luck while Victor was about.

I asked Reinhardt if he could distract Victor which he agreed upon with a smile. He told Victor that there was something wrong with his car and needed a second pair of eyes before he would return home after the tour. Victor stormed off with excitement completely forgetting about his role as Martha’s protector.

Martha grabbed my hand and tugged me in the direction of the spelunker’s hole and towards a wall at the end of the chamber. A small passageway revealed itself as we drew near. It was a secret tunnel hidden by an optical illusion. Which might have been the closest I would get to a scene from Indiana Jones.

The path became narrow and heading downwards. We walked for some time and I noticed the temperature was warmer and the air was humid. The scent of cave moss and fresh unearth thickened in my lungs. The sound of our feet crunching loose gravel soon gave way to an ominous hymn that sounded now and then. A green glow pulsed along with the hymn, reflecting off the wet stone walls.

We arrived in a large dark room filled with small groups of people. The first thing I noticed was the walls and the floor that seemed to have been hand carved unless a whirlpool took place for more than a million years. Small lines swirled from the roof in a circular motion, going around the room and into a hole in the middle that seemed to be covered with iron bars.

Atop the iron bars stood a cloaked figure masked by a horned skull, adorned with talismans and bags filled with glass beads. The cloaked figure would fill its hands with the beads and toss them to the walls. Some would break and pile upon previous shards of glass while others would bounce back into one of the grooves that lead the bead around the room and eventually into the hole at the centre.

The cloaked figure would gently sway and shake its head much like the Shoebill would. The hole emitted a green glow as he reached out with his hands and according to Martha, that would be when he called out a name from beyond the stars.

I turned my attention towards the other members who held each other in groups of two some in groups of three embracing one another. They would arch their backs outward away from each other and when repeat the same chant when the green light pulsed. I asked Martha if she could write down the phrase that was being chanted and perhaps a translation.

“Ph’nglui mglw’nafh Cthulhu R’lyeh wgah’nagl fhtagn”.

Only those that have dreamt beneath the demon tree know its meaning, said Martha. She explained that it was a mandatory prerequisite to join the ritual as a member. One had to have seen the void and heard the call of what lies beyond. Only then one would know to what extent a human could fully submit themself.

Martha seemed excited to hear what I could deduce from my observations as she kept staring at my notes. I told her that I assumed that the room and the grooves that would spiral towards the middle resembled our universe or at least our galaxy. The glass beads would be their way of calling out to the names from beyond, and perhaps they received some indication or signal when the bead found its way to the centre.

Martha said that it was an impressive assumption. She then asked a favour to ensure that all my findings were clearly stated as assumptions upon which I agreed happily on one condition. I embraced Martha and arched my back, waiting for the green light to pulse. Martha did not play along and seemed slightly uneasy. The light pulsed and I attempted to pronounce the chant and butchered the whole thing. The chanting stopped.

The green light no longer pulsed but remained.

The robed one turned its gaze towards me.

Then the whole room’s gaze followed machine-like.

I looked at Martha in shock, there was no way all of them could have heard me. Martha stared back at me as she distanced herself from my embrace.

Two of the members gathered by the centre and assisted the robed one by lifting the metal bars. A cup was produced from the robes and dipped into the hole of green light. Other members soon gathered around me and separated me from Martha. I was brought to the middle of the room and placed on my knees in front of the robed one who held the cup with both hands above me.

The crowd was overwhelming and I was not sure what was going to become of me. All of them became mad, dancing and screaming louder the higher the cup was raised. Each member made a different noise, some were grunting, and some made animal noises. The small room reverberated the sounds into chaos.

Then the noise stopped abruptly as the robed one said “Wena uyindlu yaR’lyeh”. It brought the cup to my mouth, gently pressing the cold metal against my lips with a strange distorted grunting noise.

The cup seemed to be filled with liquid silver, perhaps paint or mercury. It could have been poison or some drug but I did not have time to think, I was scared. I drank every drop without hesitation and the group dispersed and formed a line towards the door I entered from. Each seemed to hold gratitude on their face while gesturing for me and Martha to leave.

At the door, I looked back at the cloaked figure. It continued the chant, only this time I felt a strong swirl in my stomach as the green light pulsed. Martha was In a panic Martha tried to explain that this had never happened before. She reassured me that the group had never hurt anyone since the day the cave received its name. Despite Martha’s attempt at defending the ritualists’ peaceful nature, I could not calm down due to the repetitive swirling that brought me to my knees.

I felt uneasy with whatever was churning in my stomach. I have had the experience of ingesting potent mushrooms, and the bodily sensation felt more or less the same. A constant pain in my stomach followed by nausea and then a sweet release of not feeling anything at all.

We moved too fast or whatever I ingested was too strong, and brought me to a full halt. I felt it build up in my throat as if my organs expanded. I was sick and moments later the silver mass spewed from my mouth. It splashed and coalesced into a swirling animation. The lively liquid swirled and drained into a pitch-black hole.

I remember asking Martha if that hole had always been there to which she did not respond, it seemed that she knew as much as I did as both of us stared at the pitch-black darkness that consumed all light. And like a fog, the darkness evaporated, revealing bricks lit with an eerie green glow. A dreadful noise sounded as the hole sucked the air from all around with a tremendous pull. We stood back observing the hole and the strange cavern that lurked beyond.

The last moment of sane silence.

I wish we had run much sooner…

A grotesque monster revealed its towering size from the hole. My body froze as my mind raced with explanations.

Was it a bear? 

Perhaps a type of lion or wolf, but none of those thoughts released me from shock. This thing was too big, it moved too strangely. It was from another world or from another time locked away. It shouldn’t have been there.

Its skin seemed translucent with visible muscle movements beneath the patches of white fur. The creature had human features about its face though I did not get a good look as Martha pulled me from my doom. I looked back at the large mass of fur that coiled up into a cat-like position ready to pounce as we ran.

Scratching, crunching noises echoed from behind as it gave chase. We would have been dead much sooner if not for the many curves and sharp turns that hindered the beast from reaching a higher speed.

Martha kept screaming for Victor to help, stumbling and nearly falling over every obstacle like a cat that desperately wanted to release itself from water with limited escape options.

Victor and Reinhardt came running from the entrance. Reinhardt turned around the instant he saw what was chasing us, and a pale flash washed over Victor’s visible skin. I could have sworn that I saw the life leaving his eyes as he collapsed with his hand grasping his heart. There was no time, we couldn’t save him.

I grasped Martha’s hand, or clothes, I wasn’t sure and I can’t remember, it could have been her hair. With anxious might, I pulled as hard as I could. Her hands slipped off of Victor’s clothes as I tugged her onto her feet into a sprint. We ran past the giant stone maw and made our way to the exit.

The beast trashed around from inside as Reinhardt’s car came into view. The cool night air greeted us at the mouth of the cave. Gravel crunched beneath our feet and disappeared into the dark green wall of trees that surrounded the parking lot. It felt like we were going to be free.

Even freedom had a price, and Victor paid it.

Victor and Reinhardt had too much to drink and ‘fixed’ a perfectly functioning vehicle into a broken block of metal. We were stuck… We were so close to the cave, we could hear everything. The sound of a body being torn and crunched sounded further than it should have, like a butcher who had no idea what he was doing.

Then the beast howled a distorted sound mixed with a woman’s voice. The sound filled me with fear like I had never felt before. I remember crying while bones crunched and flesh was ripped. The fear-inducing howl sounded again.

It was too much.

I peered from beneath the car towards the cave’s mouth and saw the thing as it walked into this world as if it were the first time. It tasted the air, and noticed the night sounds of the forest, turning its head from side to side. It almost forgot about the piece of Victor still hanging from its maw.

Reinhardt sat with his back against a wheel, holding his knees, rocking forward, whispering “That thing is real,” over and over. Martha fell to the ground after peaking from underneath the car. To see your loved one in pieces and hanging from a monster’s mouth is a sight that would destroy anyone.

None of us could help each other. Fear held us down. Nothing could lift us. Anxiety stuck like thick mud around my body. If I moved at all then it was uncontrolled, clumsy and slow.

The beast placed its first step onto the gravel and that’s when Reinhardt sprang up and started running for the woods. My heart was beating in my chest as I lowered my head beneath the car, hoping that it had not noticed but it was already giving chase, moving uncannily towards the car.

I pulled at Martha but she was as heavy as lead in my hand. I looked down at her and saw a frame of one that lost all will to live. Like a statue, she remained in place. Her arm dropped like a corpse when I took off after Reinhardt.

Close to the woods, I heard the windshield crash and scratching metals. I turned and saw the parking lot spotlights lighting up the beast now haunched atop the smashed car. It’s maw drawing closer and closer to Martha. In an instant that seemed unreal, it lunged at her, crushing her on the ground with one claw. 

Oh god, that sound…

The sound your body produces when a chiropractor snaps your spine into place. It picked up what remained of Martha and stuffed it into its mouth even though it was still chewing on Victor. Like a baby that just learned how to feed itself.

I should have kept my mouth shut, but I screamed. It looked at me like a dumb puppy, chewing on Victor while tilting its head sideways intellectually from left to right. It screamed back at me with pieces of Victor and Martha spewing forward.

I turned and ran as the beast continued to rip Martha apart. I tripped and stumbled over the overgrown roots hiding in the shadow of the forest. That’s when Reinhardt grabbed me by the waist, picked me up, and placed me over his shoulder as he ran into the woods. I gazed back at the beast sitting in the middle of the parking lot, chewing on the rubber soles of Victor’s shoes while trying to stuff Martha deeper into its mouth.

The sight was grotesque, it was discussing and too much to bear. I regretfully screamed again and the beast responded with that awful noise once more, a woman’s voice in pain mixed with that of a giant hound ending with a growl.

Reinhardt ran at full speed, his feet barely touching the ground as we made our way uphill where the tree canopies drew over the dreadful sight of the beast. The creature did not finish its meal, abruptly bursting into a sprint, hot on our trail. I felt helpless as I dangled from atop Reinhardt’s shoulder forced to watch the thing approach us.

We reached the top of the hill where the trees were much older and the forest was much darker. Rocks, wondering roots and rabbit holes hindered Reinhardt from moving too fast, but he seemed well aware of the terrain and its hidden traps. Darkness obscured the beast from sight, but before it vanished I caught a glimpse as it amorphously climbed a tree into the dark canopy above.

Reinhardt did not stop running. His shoulder pierced into my side with every step he took. The pain grew heavy – heavy enough to snap out of the recurring gruesome visions in my head. He was panting heavily, the twigs snapped on loose rocky soils underneath heavy thumps as he placed his feet hard on the ground.

I was not sure if it was endurance or fear that fueled this man’s ability to run while he carried me on his shoulder for what seemed to be more than 20 minutes. Reality kicked in, Reinhardt stopped in a collapse, and buried his face in the ground, tossing me into a tumble.

It was too dark.

I touched the moist soil, brushing rocks and leaves aside as I searched for Reinhardt’s position. He wasn’t panting anymore, and I was unsure if he was still breathing. Fear held my tongue, any sound would betray the silence that safeguarded me. My anxiety caused delusions. Every silhouette of the strange and dark formations of the forest seemed like it was the beast itself.

Finally, I found Reinhardt, he wasn’t moving, nor was he breathing. 

I tried CPR… 

Gods know I did my best, but Reinhardt did not make it.

Silent tears ran down my cheek, and like a ruined statue, I sat in the darkness. Torn between a world of nightmares, and reality. I wasn’t sure if I dozed off, but I came to after hearing a tree snap. Like when an elephant marks his territory. I withdrew back onto my feet, placing my back against a tree to hide from the direction the sound came from. My heart betrayed me, racing as the thumps grew louder and louder, and my lungs grew heavy as if the air seemed to be in short supply, regardless of how greedily I held onto it. My legs felt weak, as they shook beneath the heavy silence that I dared not break.

Mutiny… My body was ready to hand me over to that beast, fear compelled me to give up as I sank to the ground. I released the captive air with a deep sigh, shattering the silence. A cold sensation of fear doused the fiery embers of courage. I proceeded to lie down in the fetal position a few feet away from Reinhardt as I counted the seconds of hours that went by. 

I woke to a dry and somewhat painful cough. The cold night air never did me any good. Cracks in the canopy above revealed a new day dawning, and the fresh golden rays coated the lush green mountains down the narrow vista of trees a few meters downhill. I crawled towards Reinhardt’s body, he had not moved an inch nor would he have, but I foolishly hoped otherwise. His face was frozen in shock, revealing those big blue eyes and I remember the feeling of seeing something alive, and the next moment it’s gone forever. It left me empty and afraid.

Some people are able to move along, but I struggled.

Perhaps it’s because I do not know where we go after we die if we go anywhere at all. Maybe that’s why people settle with a religion. Vampires, werewolves, God, and the Devil had been stories all my life, but that thing from the cave was real. If only a divine god would appear as that monster did…

I remember sitting for a moment across Reinhardt. His pale white skin turned blue where his skin touched the cold earth. Moments went by as I fixed my gaze back into the darker recesses of the forest. I froze… There was nothing visible nor audible, but still, I had frozen solid. An instinctive fear grasped my heart.

It was there, with me.

A twig snapped.

I turned around instantly and dashed for the sunlight, I can’t remember if I was even breathing at that moment. The solid rows of trees led to a subtle decline until it met the end where all trees had stopped. That was my target, the golden door made of mist and sunlight to flee the green dark hell behind me.

I escaped and saw a vast lush grassland surrounded by endless rows of trees. There was no civilization in sight and my only guide now lies cold in a dark forest. I turned around a few times and tried to spot the best route back to any road but then came the beast’s howl. It was soft at first – so soft that I thought I was going mad and my mind played tricks on me once more. But then it reassured me as it grew louder into the same growl that followed us from the parking lot the day before. It cried out loud before flesh tore, bones snapped, a tree branch cracked, and silence was brought down upon the forest for a moment.

I placed my back against a tree facing the sunlight. Fear pulled me downwards, and I kicked my feet out, sliding down the rough tree bark. I stood no chance out in the open, it was best to keep close to the border of the forest. Running was not an option, and the beast seemed to have incredible tracking skills which rendered hiding useless as well. 

Tears flooded my vision.

I wiped my left eye revealing the muzzle of the beast lurking less than two meters away from me. A nose protruded from the straight line of trees. A claw wrapped around the tree just above my head, sprinkling pieces of bark in my eyes. Its maw turned my way, revealing the rest of its face from behind the tree line.

It curiously inspected me. Sniffing me like a dog, greedily in quick succession while its eyes flashed to other locations of the forest and back at me as it drew closer. Slowly its maw opened up, producing rows of teeth covered in viscera and the stench of rotting flesh. I remember that smell, the same smell that sticks to lions. Then came the eyes, those human eyes. They seemed afraid. The beast gently turned around, dashing its eyes at me to confirm that I was still there before making its next move. 

Then it vanished into the woods as quietly as it had shown up.

I sat unsure if the thing was playing games with me or if it truly left. The silence grew heavier, fear felt more normal, and time was of no importance. Eventually, I followed the line of trees carefully and found pools of blood where I had left Reinhardt. I followed the destruction left in the creature’s wake as I made my way back over the hill and down to the parking lot. Young trees were reduced to splinters. One of Victor’s partially chewed shoes hung from a twig. Footprints of blood and flesh on the tar road as the creature ran with Martha in its grip.

I did not dare to enter the cave, I sat and waited for help to arrive.

Police did not believe my story, nor did the psychologist, nor did the pastor at church, but most importantly, you did not believe me.

Science says I am healthy.

Religion says I am damned.

Stricken and destroyed is my mind.

I love you, but I must find sanctuary now.