The Jar of Nephren-Ka

Faucheux Monuments

Belle Chasse, Louisiana: 1:48 AM, Saturday, June 16th, 1984

That night, I parked my cruiser at one of the auto repair shops on Engineer Road, and checked my kit. I was wearing a new set of fatigues I had purchased from the local Army surplus, and I had a duffel filled with my tools. My weapon nestled against my lower back.

I surveyed the area with my binocs. Lighting was minimal by Faucheux Monuments, as neither the salvage yard, water tower, nor the monument shop itself had exterior lighting, and street lamps were nonexistent.

I waited until the roads were free of headlights from any direction, then I exited the cruiser and walked casually across Engineer road. As I reached the vegetation surrounding the water tower, I walked into it. As soon as I was sure I was concealed, I hunkered down and sprinted as quickly as I was able along the line of overgrown shrubbery towards the salvage yard.

I stopped about twenty yards from the rusting wreck of a fence that bordered the salvage yard and took a knee. I looked around, trying to spot any signs of movement or anything out of place.

The salvage yard looked deserted, and it continued around behind Faucheux Monuments. Once inside, I would be able to skulk from junk-pile to junk-pile, then cut the fence and exit behind the shop.

It was tempting, but I hesitated. The stereotype of the junk-yard dog existed for a reason, and I hating hurting animals, especially ones that were just doing what someone trained them to do. Instead, I hunched down in the shrubs and waited, quiet and still, for an hour.

When my watch read three A.M., I had seen no movement except for a few passing cars out on Engineer Road. I stood and walked out of the shrubs, across the road, and into the drive of Faucheux Monuments.

I walked up to the door, my mind trying to catalog the industrial deadbolt on the steel door, but I was coming up blank. It looked old, rust laying claim to the outer surfaces, and I could not see any sign of a manufacturer name.

I stood by the door and began trying bump-keys, growing more nervous as, one by one, they failed to open the door. I was down to my last few keys when the lock clicked and turned, and I was inside. Rubbing the sweat out of my eyes with my t-shirt, I snapped on my flashlight, and immediately dropped it, slamming into the door as I recoiled in horror.

The vision that had assaulted me was something out of a chitinous, cyclopean nightmare. A central, red eye had burned out of the darkness, surrounded by six other smaller, angry red orbs, on a head that teemed with segmented mouth parts, sharp fangs glistening with venom. I could almost swear I heard a clicking, chittering sound coming from its inhuman maw.

I stood, flattened against the door, paralyzed. There was no sound, save my ragged breathing and the pounding of my heart. The air tasted stale, dusty. The flashlight lie on the floor, beam playing out over the concrete and onto the supports of shelving in front of me. Dust motes, kicked up by my movement, danced like dog fighters in the beam of light.

Slowly, I reached behind me and removed my revolver. I slid down the door until I was kneeling, and I aimed the revolver up at the spot where I had seen... whatever the fuck that was. I slowly reached down with my left hand and grabbed the flashlight.

With one smooth motion, I aimed the light at the creature and pulled the hammer back on my weapon. A split second before I squeezed, my mind registered what I was seeing, and I removed my finger from the trigger.

On a chest-high shelf was a large bust. It was shaped vaguely like a cobra's hood, flaring out into wings at the side. Near the top of the hood was a huge, red gem, twinkling in the light. Below this, surrounding it in a rough 'V' pattern, were six smaller gems, all red and sparkling, like some great central eye surrounded by auxiliary eyes. Some demon's dream of a spider's head.