(A/N: Not to be confused with the story by Inferno and Deathwalker called "Event Horizon."...Probably a better read than this story anyway :P. OK, in serious, hope you enjoy. First try at Lovecraft-styled horror, so if it sucks...you know why now. ZombieKiller123)
"If you fall in, you would never come out...death by black hole..." -Neil deGrasse Tyson
"Gravity is infinite at the center of a black hole. Time stops, space makes no sense." -Michio Kaku
"Outside the ordered universe is that amorphous blight of nethermost confusion which blasphemes and bubbles at the center of all infinity—the boundless daemon sultan Azathoth, whose name no lips dare speak aloud, and who gnaws hungrily in inconceivable, unlighted chambers beyond time and space amidst the muffled, maddening beating of vile drums and the thin monotonous whine of accursed flutes." -A Highlighted passage of H.P. Lovecraft's "The Dream-Quest of Unknown Kadath, purchased by Sigmund Trakovsky
A scientist was slumped over his desk, papers of notes scattered across the table and the floor. This scientist, Dr. Bastian Wright was preforming metaphysical-physical experiments involving the body and soul. He scratched his head, looking at the examination tray on the table behind him. There rested a brain, a human brain, which was the focus of his research, with help from his group of assistants, who helped him get a hold of tools and other nessesities.
He grabbed a scalpel and started cutting the nerve-matter, trying to reach the pineal glad, which he believed to house the soul. Not like the Judeo-Christan-Islamic veiw, no, he was too advanced for that. Despite the other's in the 1957, he denounced God, knowing that matter was the truth, the source of life. But even a materialist like him couldn't deny that there's something greater than the brain in control. So, he's been trying to catch the pineal gland before the soul could leave. That was a hard feat of course, due to the very nature of matter and the soul.
One of his helpers, Issac came in and said, "Uh, excuse me sir, there's someone outside in the school yard for you. Bastian was using his school's lab as the place of his experimentations. "Send him away Issac." Bastian looked back at the brain and started again with his incision of the brain, only to be stoped by something.
"Oh damn bones, always in the way." Bastion grabbed a hammer that his other assistant left. "Well have to be careful about this." And with that the scientist cracked a chunk of bone from the severed head in the tray. In order to find the soul, Bastian assumed, he needs semi-biotic tissues to extract the gland out. By killing his "subjects", then dumping their heads in nuclear waste, he managed to keep the severed heads "alive" for examination. The only problem would be that sometimes the cells would multiply out of control, causing the pineal gland impossible to extract in its entirety.
'But this time...' thought the man, 'This time the cells are stable!' The semi-living head groaned slightly, muttering that it wished to be dead. Completely uncaring about the head he brought into the world, he cracked the skull a little more, shattering the side of the face, allowing Bastian to slice the remains of the spinal cord and remove the brain, ending the miserable existence of the severed head.
Bastian swiftly sliced through the layers of the brain until he found what he was looking for. The pineal gland, covered in neural fluid and blood. A light came from it, but it was hard to tell what was the cause, was it gland itself or was it just light reflecting off the neural fluid.
Regardless, he was content. Bastian could now show the world his truths, the new way the people could see the soul. All it took was two dozen lives for their brains. So, Bastian put the gland in a jar of preservative fluid to examine later. So he took out a pipe, filled it with tobacco, opened a window, lit it up, and took a long drag of smoke. He exhaled, content, "I am on the threshold of understanding the human condition." He looked down at the street to see a young man standing outside. He was wearing a wool coat, like those worn in the Second World War, buttoned up with gold buttons.
His skin was hard to put down, as if he was a blend of different races.
The man directed his gaze up at Bastian, revealing his bizzare eyes. Bastian also couldn't tell what color they were, as if they weren't to be seen with man's natural limits. The young man smiled an awful smile. There was something about his face that seemed wrong. It was ridiculous, but some seemed, just less than human, just inhuman enough, to send chills.
Bastian walked away from the window, shut it, and covered it with the blinds, wanting to ignore the questionable man outside. He backed away and turned to the glass jar. The gland was gone. "What!? Where could it have gone!"
Bastian shoved and pushed papers away from his desk, seeing if he might have dropped it on the desk on accident, rather in the jar. Then, he could see, just above his eyes, a tannish-pinkish mass. 'The gland!' He looked up, to see who held his prize, who took it from him.
A decaying hand grabbed his throat, revealing a rotting stump of a neck. It was the dead body of the first victim, a woman who wouldn't quite conform. The doors smashed in, Issac came in for refuge, only to be tossed by an unknown force. A familiar figure stepped into view. The man from outside, with his coat's buttons open up.
In their place, the buttons were replaced by ichor-colored eyes, darting around the room as the man himself underwent a more gruesome transformation. His jar split open, from his upper jaw came out writing tendrils, the webbing between his fingers split, turning every finger into a tentacle, with jagged claws in place of suction cups. The finishing touch was his the rest of his head, which cracked down the middle, creating a gaping maw, a light of unknown energy erupted from him, as his legs formed into insect-like limbs. Issac stared in awe and horror, his youthful appearence seeming weary.
The undead that held Bastian used its other hand to grab his throat and begun to apply pressure to it. Bastian struggled to reach for the hammer on the table, but it was just an inch away from his grasp. Bastian could only watch in horror and terror as the thing that walked in started to tear Issac apart, gnawing on his body, his blood splattering on wall, floor and on Bastian's face and clothes. Bastian continued to try to reach for the hammer, only for a dull thud to be heard, before it all went black.
Bastian woke up to the sounds of sirens, and now saw that he was surrounded with the 24 headless dead that he has killed for the brains and his assistants, also headless, no doubt killed by the undead and the...whatever creature that thing was. That Thing..."It was blasphemy,' he thought 'Even I say that it was blasphemy that it could exist!'
In a moment the police came in, shocked by the carnage that they saw. Bastian was arrested on the spot. There was no doubt in anyone's mind that he was going to jail. Didn't mean everyone agreed as to if it was justified. 'I was this close! This close! I could have solved the secrets of mankind!'
As the police officers, Jasper and Phil drove the cruiser to the jail, they stumbled upon an accident along the roads. They both left the prisoner locked in the back, his hands cuffed behind his back. Bastian was still thinking about how close he was, he could have found the soul of a human being! It would've revolutionized science!
Claws pierced his face and mouth, his screams muffled, as a being who ducked into a dimension beyond, hieght, width, and depth. One of the claws transformed into an eye and another a mouth. The mouth spoke, "You wanted to know secrets, locked from humanity? Well, now you're looking into a hole in the universe itself..."
When the Jasper and Phil came back to the car, they were horrified to see Bastian, his head crushed and his blood splatteted on the seat and rear window. "Jesus!" shouted Philip, grabbing his walkie talkie, calling for back up.
Jasper leaned towards the back of the driver seat. Somehow Bastian was alive long enough to write something on it. In blood it read