The Jar of Nephren-Ka

Escape

Vacherie, Louisiana: 12:09 AM, Monday, June 25th, 1984

As soon as I had enough wind in my lungs to not feel like I was suffocating, I began rubbing the rope back and forth against the pillar, fraying it little by little.

A part of me, a big part, simply wanted to curl up on the plinth and fade back into unconsciousness, but I couldn't get that repellent horror out of my head. The idea that the... thing... might be still roaming around on the grounds made me tremble, and I wanted out of here as fast as possible.

I kept working on the rope, and as I did, another problem reared its ugly head: I had no idea where Barnes was, but I felt certain once he found me, I was done for. I was in no shape just now for another brawl, and he had my revolver.

Worse, I had bought the damn thing at a gun shop. I needed to retrieve it, or it would tie me to the scene.

I kept working on the rope, occasionally stopping and pulling to see if I could break it. It took a while, but I finally tore through the rope.

Sweaty and exhausted, I nevertheless had the presence of mind to shove the rope fragments into my pockets. I looked around once more, searching for signs that the creature was still around, but noticed nothing.

I placed a foot down on the tile. Nothing moved, save the branches of trees disturbed by the mild breeze. I put my other foot down and stood, my bad leg locking immediately.

"Fuck me," I muttered, and rubbed the knee until I felt it release. Then I began walking towards the house, head on a swivel.

About halfway to the door, I stopped, an intense certainty filling me that I had forgotten something. I turned and looked behind me, examining the area with fresh eyes. When my eyes landed on the Jar, I stopped. I couldn't leave it. Whatever was going on here, it began and ended with that damn jar.

I walked back over and scooped it up. As I did, the top came loose, and I grabbed it before it fell. 

I examined the top, concerned that I may have broken it, but it seemed intact. There was a residue like grout on the section that mated with the jar, which was crumbly to the touch. Inside, the jar appeared completely empty.

A shiver wormed its way down my spine, and I recapped the Jar, then cradled it like a football, with the top buried in the crook of my arm. I continued toward the door.

At the double door leading into the house, I listened closely, but could hear nothing over the crickets. I turned the knob, thankful Barnes had not removed my gloves, and eased the door open a few inches.

I still heard nothing, so I peered through the crack. The hallway appeared empty and undisturbed.

I pulled the door open and flattened myself against the wall. I heard no movement, so after a few moments, I stepped inside, and immediately froze in confusion.

Beside the door, against the wall, lay a large pile of clothing with a dusting of sand splayed across it. I stared at the clothing, thinking there was something very familiar about it.

The top garment was a jacket of some sort, made of very nice fabric, far above my means. I grabbed the jacket by the collar and picked it up to get a better look.

As the jacket rose, it uncovered a starched white shirt underneath, and through the neck opening I saw the apex of a large mound of sand, dark brown on top, then abruptly changing to a tan and pinkish color, like the skin of a white man. I recoiled in horror, dropping the jacket, as understanding blossomed in my mind.

This was Barnes's clothing.

An intense curiosity overcame my horror, and I reached down, examining his dress shirt before tossing it to the side. Under it lie an undershirt, which I also tossed.