September 14, 1868
Chateaugay Lake House
Chateaugay Lake, NY
My esteemed colleagues,
I pen this account to you from the depths of indescribable terror, my fingers trembling as I relate the horrors I experienced on my recent trip to Chateaugay Lake, in the northern Adirondack Mountains of New York State. This letter serves as both a record of my experiences and a frightening warning to anyone who dare to delve into the unknown.
It started out innocently enough, as most doomed journeys do. The summer sun was ablaze as my party ventured into the heart of this desolate region. Armed with an insatiable curiosity and knowledge of ancient civilizations, I aimed to uncover rare Abenaki artifacts and treasures hidden within the forgotten sands of the Chateaugay Lake sandbar. The lake, a mirror reflecting the eerie tranquility of its surroundings, beckoned us with an unsettling allure.
We camped near the shore, our tents pitched beneath a canopy of towering pines that whispered secrets of a forgotten era. But a sense of gloom seized our weary minds as the moon mounted her nocturnal throne, pouring out its pale silvery light onto the still waters.
The next morning, after our guide prepared a heartwarming breakfast of native speckled beauties with delicious pink meat that he caught at the mouth of the Ouleout brook, a short distance away, my trusted expedition team and I set foot on the lake’s sandy shores, guided by local stories of an ancient Abenaki Indian treasure, fueled by my unquenchable need for knowledge. We ventured onto the ancient sandbar of legend that lay slumbering at the northern end of the lake opposite a bluff, separated by a narrow and deep channel of water whereby the water finally cascaded north towards the St. Lawrence.
An ominous aura had weighed heavy in the air tight from the start. We’d heard some of the of the locals whispering quietly, their eyes filled with fear and superstition. They told of an ancient Abenaki curse, a malicious ancient ice cannibal lurking in the forest, preying on the unwary. We didn’t realize the validity of their assertions until it was too late.
As we excavated the site, uncovering remnants of a long-forgotten civilization, a mist of foreboding fell over us. Strange symbols decorated some of the artifacts, bizarre and alien, scratched by dusty hands. It was as if reality’s own fabric had been ripped apart, enabling the eldritch horrors of another realm to seep through.
Nights were the toughest, as the line between dreams and reality became increasingly blurred. Whispers rang through the night, stealing into our heads like tendrils of madness. Visions of unfathomable horrors danced before our eyes, twisting and warping the very fabric of our sanity. I awoke several times to find myself on the precipice of panic, considering the unfathomable.
The lake, it seemed, possessed a horrible secret, its murky depths concealing an abominable presence. Legends told of a watery deity, a hideous leviathan worshiped by the long-gone nation. In our hubris, we dismissed these stories as mere mythology. Unfortunately, the truth was even more horrific.
A deep, sorrowful chant resonated through the trees one starry night, as our bonfire dwindled to embers. We followed the sound, which led us to an ancient stone altar near the water’s edge. We witnessed a spectacle that defied explanation there, bathed by the sickly brightness of the moon.
An abomination beyond mortal comprehension writhed upon the altar, an amorphous mass. Tentacles undulated and eyes blinked within its gelatinous shape, each appendage reaching out with insatiable desire towards us. We stood there transfixed in fear as it devoured one of our companions, their shouts muffled by its slimy jaws.
Reason shattered like the ancient Abenaki ruins in that moment, overwhelmed by primitive impulse. Our footsteps echoed through the forest as we fled, pursued by the abomination’s horrible shouts. It seemed to defy nature’s laws, closing up on us with supernatural speed. My comrades fell one by one, their souls taken by the eldritch monster.
I cannot accurately convey the duration of my enthrallment, for time became a malleable construct, warping under the weight of their ancient presence. Suffice to say, dear colleagues, that when I regained my senses, I found myself alone on the desolate shores of Chateaugay Lake, with no trace of the nocturnal horrors that had so thoroughly ensnared me.
As I pen these dying lines, I am the sole survivor of our ill-fated mission. Madness whispers in my ear, pleading with me to embrace the darkness, to give in to the nightmares that haunt my every waking moment. Nonetheless, I must fulfill my obligation to you, my colleagues, and offer this dreadful warning.
Beware of the unknown depths that lurk beneath the surface of our planet, my friends. The eldritch creatures that reside there are unfathomable, and once unleashed, they will consume all in their path. I implore you to give up your pursuit of forbidden knowledge before it takes your soul.
May the gods keep you safe from the dangers that lie in the darkness.
Yours in trembling fear,
Samuel Worthington
What mysteries of Chateaugay Lake haunt you?