Original Version of the Prologue

Stephanie Lansdale felt no pain. The monster slowly consuming her gave her strength. Enough for her to climb to the top of the clock tower. She looked out at Miskatonic University. The campus was lovely in the darkness. Ribbons of light glittered below, crisscrossing the walkways and bike paths on the commons. Even the brick buildings, so grim and forbidding, seemed less threatening from above. In a few hours, the university would welcome a fresh batch of students. Tomorrow was the first day of fall quarter. Stephanie felt a stab of regret that she wouldn’t live to see another academic year.

She blamed her boyfriend, Joey. She didn’t want to go to Delta Delta Tao’s end-of-summer party. It took place in Bentham Corners, an abandoned mining village fifty miles west of the university. The ghost town was a perfect spot to engage in Miskatonic mayhem—a secluded place to drag out the Ouija boards and frighten freshmen girls. Stephanie wasn’t a scared little girl. She was about to start her junior year. She was on the Dean’s list. Part of the university’s advanced program. It took a lot more than ghosts to scare her. But when Joey insisted, when he hinted that something might happen if she wasn’t there, she went along. It made no difference. The moment they arrived at the party, he drifted off. Stephanie spent her time alone, sipping beers while her boyfriend flirted with another girl. A line from a No Doubt song blasted in her head. Kind of always knew I’d end up your ex- girlfriend.

“Hey. Check this out!” one of the guys yelled as he raced into the center of the village. Some of his brothers stirred, but most were too drunk to respond. In

sheer desperation, he turned to Stephanie. “You have to see this! Come on! You have to see! You have to see.”

He gestured so frantically that she couldn’t figure out where he was pointing. His enthusiasm charmed her. He reminded Stephanie of a hyperactive child, trying to wake up his parents on Christmas Day.

“Sure. Why not?” She rose and dusted off her jeans. Better than watching my boyfriend getting ready to cheat on me, she thought as she picked up her backpack. She always carried her backpack. Most advanced students did.

At first, she thought it was the mouth of a cave. Vines as thick as dreadlocks hung over the entrance. When she spotted railroad tracks in the undergrowth, she realized it was an abandoned mine. Stephanie smiled. She explored many old mines growing up in West Virginia. They were her hiding places, a refuge from parents devastated by the death of their only son. The golden boy, Stephanie thought. She grimaced as she fished a flashlight out of her bag. Her brother’s death cast a very long shadow, one she was still trying to escape

“What are you doing?” her companion demanded. She could hear the nervousness in his voice. Discovering a mine was one thing. Exploring it was another.

“What’s your name?” she asked. His face was familiar, but all of Joey’s frat brothers blurred together.

“I’m Scott. Scott Crawford.”

“Well, Scott. My boyfriend is probably screwing the bimbo he’s been flirting with all night, so I see no point in heading back right away, do you?”

“Uh—I guess not. Might as well stick around. I’m not getting any action,” Scott complained.

Stephanie looked at him. For a moment, she wondered whether getting her alone was a trick, a ploy to get into her pants. She decided she didn’t care. Scott Crawford was drunk. And she knew how to fight. It was the one thing her father taught her before she headed out into the world.

“Let’s go then.”

The mine was beautiful. Everywhere Stephanie trained her flashlight, the stone winked back at her. As they headed deeper underground, she wondered what they mined here. She was used to the dull, black world of coal, of seams that cut through the earth like arteries. This place reminded her of a light globe she had as a child, a toy that splashed a rainbow of stars across her ceiling. Stephanie stifled a giggle. She fought the urge to dance in the twinkles of light.

“What do you think happened?”

“What do you mean?” Stephanie blurted, startled out of her flight of fancy. He pointed at the ground, littered with rusty shovels, safety helmets, and

boots.

“People left here in one hell of a hurry.”

Helllppp. She heard a single word, caught in a quiver of air. “Who’s that?” Scott whispered.

Stephanie whirled her flashlight around the mine. The beam started to flicker. Someone’s trying to communicate. Her heart began to thunder in her ears.

She tried to push away the thought. She didn’t want anyone to communicate with her. Not here. So far from the safety of the surface.

"Oh for Christ’s sake! Is this a joke? Some sort of prank?” she turned on her companion. She hoped he would say yes. She needed him to say yes.

“I wish it was,” he responded in a hollow voice.

The air settled on them like a cold, wet blanket. Stephanie remembered the tales she heard from the coal-stained men back home, that mountains were living creatures, entities that demanded respect. Respect and sometimes, sacrifice. She shook her head. You’re in the dark, she scolded herself as she groped through the backpack. People make up things when they’re in the dark. Your batteries are going dead. That’s all. There’s nothing out there. Still, she sighed in relief when her fingers closed on an extra set of batteries. Slowly, with as much care as she could manage with her trembling hands, she fed them into the flashlight.

“Okay. We’re back in business.”

Her heart dropped when she pointed the light. Scott Crawford was flat against the wall, his eyes wide with terror. Following his gaze, she peered into the darkness. The earth shifted behind her. Little pieces of rock pattered on the floor. That’s when it hit her. Scott wasn’t pressing himself against the wall. Something held him there. Stephanie turned. Every muscle in her back twisted like a damp rag. A pair of eyes stared back at her. And another. And another. The wall was full of trapped men, their bodies a quivering fresco of fear. They reached out from the stone as they clamored for release. In their desperation, they latched onto Scott-- holding him hostage.

“Oh God,” she croaked. She moved to help him, but he shook his head. “Don’t. They’ll pull you in, too. Get help.”

“But I don’t want to leave you.”

“Get help.”

A deafening shriek stopped them mid-argument. Someone or something else was in the mine. The walls around them trembled. Men broke loose from their captivity. They lurched to their feet, knocking her down in a mad rush to reach the surface.

Fear bit into Stephanie like a whip. Jesus! What are they? Zombies? Ghosts? She had no idea. Everything she learned at Miskatonic lay frozen beneath a thick layer of horror.

“Come on.” A pair of hands hooked her under the arms and lifted her to her feet. Whatever freed the men had freed Scott as well.

“Oh my God! Are you okay?” she muttered, grabbing onto his arm. He looked as wobbly as she felt.

There was another deafening shriek. This time much closer. Stephanie and Scott looked at each other. Instinct kicked in. They ran for the surface, each focused on their own survival. Stephanie never looked back, but she could see what chased them. She saw the creature in her mind’s eye, in a very deep, primitive part of her brain. The thing was old. Not just old. Prehistoric. It had a long, shell-like head. Saucer eyes. Flailing limbs that lit up the dark world around them. She glanced at Scott. Is he seeing the same thing? she wondered.

He was gone.

One moment he was there, the next . . . Stephanie wanted to stop. She wanted to look for him. But she couldn’t. She could feel heat rising on the back of her neck.

“Please. Please. No,” she begged as she felt a warm wave penetrate her body. Hot liquid flooded her veins.

Her body twitched, making a token effort to resist.. She smelled the stench of her burning flesh. Her body contracted as her muscles and tendons tightened. Make it fast, she begged the creature, make it fast, make it fast, make it fast.

The rest of that night was a blur. She remembered racing back to the village, past her boyfriend and the other woman. She launched herself at the men by the fire, “Scott Crawford is trapped in the mine. Help! Please!”

All she got were confused looks.

“Scott Crawford? Who the hell is Scott Crawford,” one frat brother asked. “We don’t know a Scott Crawford,” another one said.

“Oh God, it got him. It almost got me. Can’t you see? Can’t you see?” she

babbled. She pointed at her singed clothes, at the cloud of smoking rising off her. They just stared at her. They didn’t see the smoke.

No one ever saw the smoke.

Stephanie screamed as the university clock chimed three. Three weeks. That was how long she endured the nightmare. Three weeks of possession by a monster. Three weeks, three o’ clock in the morning. There was a strange, almost comforting symmetry to her death. As she moved to the edge, she thought of her parents in

West Virginia. They warned her about Miskatonic. Her suicide would strike them as a senseless tragedy, something preventable. Stephanie wished she had left them a note. She wanted to tell them it was worth it. In the two years she spent at the University, she learned more than she ever dreamed possible.

“Time to graduate.”

She smiled as she leapt off the clock tower.