Labyrinth of the Grey Man

[Daniel Hayes]

Hi all, this is my first attempt at a horror short story, let me know what you think. Cheers

Labyrinth of the Grey Man (part 1)

The following is a testament of the events that led to my present predicament and a record of my subsequent findings. I write this in the hope that it may be found one day, even if I am not, and I will endeavour to leave to posterity as much relevant detail in the telling as I can recall. It began three months ago now, in March of 2015, when we at the East Mercian Paranormal Society were contacted by a climber that had just returned from the Cairngorms and had seen something he could not explain. The climber in question did not want to be named as he feared for his reputation, though I pray that he comes forward, should this document see the light of day, to add credence to my account. Our contact described being followed by a great grey shape as he climbed Ben Macdhui, the tallest peak in the range, and related to us a feeling of overwhelming dread that had seized him from that moment and from which he was not released until he had come off the mountain. Such reports were not unknown to us at the Society as the Grey Man of Ben Macdhui, or the Am Fear Liath Mór as it is known in the old local tongue, is famous among paranormal circles as Britain’s potential equivalent of the North American Sasquatch, the Himalayan Yeti or the Australian Yowie alongside a score of other giant wildmen. Given our contact’s credentials, which shall go unlisted here except to say that he is an experienced mountaineer and learned academic, and the weight of similar historic testimony the Investigative Committee of the Society agreed unanimously to mount an expedition to Scotland in search of the Grey Man. My colleague at the Society, Dr Irving Ransom, was able to solicit sufficient donations to fund the trek from his secret source. If I ever make it out of this place alive I am determined to uncover the identity of this covert benefactor; my esurient curiosity can no longer be reconciled to the secrecy surrounding this generous individual and his clandestine motivations.

In addition to me our team included three others from the Society: Messrs Smith, Howard and O’Hare. The former pair are seasoned paranormal investigators but without any particular experience of the conditions we expected in the Cairngorms, therefore O’Hare was assigned to our group as he had not long been returned from an expedition in the heights of the Peruvian Andes. For some local guidance and know-how we sought the services of a professional hiker out of Inverness, one Malcom Mackay, the fifth and final member of our group. Once all the preparations had been made, we four from the Society flew out of Stansted to Glasgow on 10th June, which was a Wednesday, to rendezvous with Malcom before heading on to Ben Macdhui, which we reached by the evening. With us we had taken all the regulation equipment of our trade: electronic voice phenomena (EVP) recorders, electromagnetic field (EMF) metres, forward looking infrared thermal (FLIR) and motion trigger cameras alongside various other industry accoutrements. With these tools we aimed to decipher whether the Grey Man, if such a thing existed or could be found, was by nature corporeal or ethereal, a relict hominid or an immaterial spectre. We at the Society investigate the paranormal, by which we mean a spectrum from the purely paranormal (including ‘cryptids’, undiscovered creatures which are nevertheless flesh and blood members of the animal kingdom) to the supernatural (otherworldly spiritual entities that do not appear to conform to any law of nature). With this methodological framework in mind we set up camp at the Linn of Dee, on the river’s western bank. The night was peaceful and the sky clear, though my sleep was troubled by bad dreams.

Our expedition was due to last for three days, over the course of which it was our intent to slowly ascend the mountain, laying down baited motion trigger cameras at strategic locations as we went in addition to taking notes and documenting our progress in a procedural fashion. At night we would attempt to document sub-audible communications with the EVP recorder and scan the bare mountain face with the FLIR. All being well we would descend Ben Macdhui on the final day, collecting the cameras and lures as we did so before collating our data at base camp. It started well enough, Thursday morning was bright and we made good progress. All the land was bare apart from the pines about Derry Lodge and it was hard to imagine anything so reputedly large could hide out here for so long, but I was reminded by Howard that the Grey Man might not have need of rudimentary necessities such as shelter otherwise indispensable to animal-kind. He was a proponent of the ‘supernatural thesis’ amongst cryptozoologists, taking the view that most legendary creatures, from Nessie to Bigfoot, are in fact beings of a spiritual rather than corporeal nature. Howard expounded this hypothesis in a voluminous tome, published by the Society, in which he claims that the lack of conclusive physical evidence of these entities can be explained with reference to their supernatural, and necessarily immaterial, compositions. Smith, on the other hand, held to the opposite perspective, maintaining that his quest was the search for flesh and blood creatures, the paranormal yet not supernatural. What Mackay must have thought of this debate I know not what as he kept largely to himself, except to offer advice and instructions now and again, on matters strictly related to his contractual duties.

It was not until the evening of the first day that anything worthy of note happened. We established camp in a gust-worn recess beneath Carn a’Mhaim to shelter from the wind which had picked up over the course of the afternoon. Being June the sky was still bright but the sun had sunk low enough to cast a shadow across desolate heath beneath us, so Smith and I retrieved the FLIR to scan for any heat signatures emitted by living creatures or other energy-emitting sources. After an unusually long time spent rousing the machine to life we scanned the heath and noticed a shape defined in bright reds and yellows in stark relief against a backdrop of cold blue and green. The creature, for it was surely alive given its apparent motion, wended steadily along a perpendicular heading. Mackay suggested that it might be one of the Cairngorm Reindeer or even a fellow hiker who’d lost his way, but he could make out nothing with the naked eye or through binoculars, leading Howard to suggest that it was an anomalous reading from a piece of occasionally erratic equipment. Following a reboot the FLIR failed to return anything of substance, which was enough to convince Howard. I was less certain and the foremost tendrils of an icy foreboding crept into my heart and could not be shaken from me. Though I was the junior member of this team, I had had my fair share of otherworldly experiences and prided myself on my stoicism, a virtue much regarded by the Society. Even so, that singular dread so often described in the accounts of the Grey Man was ushered in after this inconclusive encounter. That night was even more disturbed than the first.

Dawn on the second day was grim, driving rain and fog having moved in during the early hours which looked set to stay. Still, we had come prepared for such eventualities and de-camped in short order. Our route took as up, into Glen Luibeg following the Sion Riach route. This height was altogether bereft of trees and shrubs, according to what little distance we could see through the fog beyond the pathway. We continued laying down motion trigger cameras, which are often used in the pursuit of cryptids in the wild, most notably Sasquatch. In a lecture to the Society in the previous year, Smith had argued that the North American Bigfoot was so well adapted to seclusion in the wild that it instinctively avoided such traps, even if the specifics of their operation were beyond the ability of the Sasquatch to fathom. This and other speculations were the basis for continued debate between Howard and Smith, into which O’Hare refused to be drawn. O’Hare was a highflyer within the Society, enjoying the favour of the Investigative Committee which despatched him on the most prestigious and most eagerly anticipated missions, such as his recent sojourn in the Andes. He isn’t the type to become absorbed in the trivialities, as he probably sees it, of the sort that so engrosses men like Howard and Smith. For O’Hare truth is quested for in the field, not the lecture theatre or in tedious online forum threads. Perhaps it is he that will finally discover me, or what’s left. I think it is best that I follow his example and excise from this account any further detours into cryptozoological theory and contention.

[Daniel Hayes]

Labyrinth of the Grey Man (part 2)

Our advance through the grey rain and encompassing mist was a desultory trudge when compared to the previous day’s advance, negating the good fortune which had placed us ahead of schedule. We had arrived on the inhospitable sub-arctic plateau atop Ben Macdhui by noon and came to the summit by early evening. All about on this height, outstripped by none in Britain save Ben Nevis, were weather-smoothed rocks, some of which had been piled together to create a cairn at the mountain’s absolute summit. Here Howard and I conducted several sessions with the EVP recorder, but a furtive attempt to playback the findings revealed a wave of queer undulating static. The EMF metre was of little more use, producing inconstant readings from which no solid conclusion could be drawn. It was then that it happened, that which turned the whole expedition on its head. As we were preparing to make our descent to the final camp site before we left the mountain entirely Mackay claimed he saw a great shape loom out of the fog toward him before withdrawing back into Scotch mist. It took us some time to calm this tough highlander down, which we did with the help of some Old Fettercairn that Smith had guilefully kept secreted inside a hip-flask. O’Hare suggested that the thing may have been the product of an optical illusion known as the broken spectre effect, in which one’s shadow is cast against the cloud, giving the appearance of a large humanoid figure. Mackay replied that he would have said as much himself, had not the shape closed on him while he was standing perfectly still. By now that dawning horror which had germinated within me the previous night began to bloom even as I witnessed its vanguard symptoms on the others, even O’Hare. The fog appeared to close in even further, making it impossible to retrace our route off the pinnacle, so we resolved to make what progress we could in the hope of the weather clearing or of encountering some fellow hikers. Neither of which ever occurred, as far as I can tell.

That night, which was supposed to be our last, we spent alert, all our senses prickling at the merest suggestion of deliberate egress. Smith complained that we would not be able to reclaim the motion trigger cameras anytime soon if we did not follow the same route back down, but in truth my thoughts strayed from the quest to all manner of nameless terrors. The legendary fear of Ben Macdhui had broken down my fortitude, I am ashamed to confess, replacing my commitment to the goals of the Society with thoughts of panic and of flight. The very wind, which had gained yet more in strength, seemed to carry on it fell voices and unearthly cries. There was no sleep for me that night, even if Howard had refrained from playing back the eldritch confusions captured on his EVP recorder, which never appeared to sound the same way twice in each replaying of, nominally, the same sample.

Dawn on the third day, the 13th June, was ushered in not through the sudden alertness that comes from waking but as a slowly unfolding state of being, one which proceeds from a state of unyielding sleeplessness. Our team soundlessly and cautiously gathered themselves together and disassembled the single tent into which we had all pressed shamelessly for mutual comfort. To our distress it seemed as though the mist had not only failed to disperse but had grown even closer and denser, if that were possible. Bereft of any obvious route, and with our compass spinning about wildly and uselessly, we headed in the direction that felt most downward in trajectory, but which might prove to be a decline foreshadowing an ascent to yet another unseen height. We from the Society were content that this was the least worst option available, a fact and reality which Mackay found hard to accept given his hiking experience in the Cairngorms. Nobody wished to take up the van or the rear of our shuffling column, so we clustered together, eyes and heads swivelling in their sockets in fear of a reappearance of the shape.

Our party carried on for what felt like an epoch, but which may only have been a half an hour of intense alertness. We let out a collective sigh of dismay when the path began to ascend again, begetting a wave of panic and desperation that breached the facades of our self-control. Mackay bellowed in rage and frustration and O’Hare joined in with a tirade of curses. I was frozen in place, numbed by fear, with the blood pounding in my ears as suddenly the encircling mists grew impossibly dense, completely surrounding me such that I could not even see my own knees. Then all sound died away besides the howl of the wind and my own useless cries for help. I could neither see, nor hear, nor in anyway sense the company of my fellows as panic drove me to dive madly into suffocating grey shroud. I cannot say for how long I ran hither and thither, vainly searching for Howard, Smith and the others but my efforts were brought to a sudden end when I found myself falling. I landed heavily, winded and dazed, inside a cavernous expanse and retained consciousness long enough to see something sealing the entryway in the ceiling above me with a great stone before the darkness engulfed me.

[Daniel Hayes]

Labyrinth of the Grey Man (part 3)

When I came to I was greeted by the same stygian darkness that had accompanied me through my unconsciousness, which had, ironically, been my best sleep since arriving at Ben Macdhui. I dispelled the blackness around me with my torch, which had managed somehow to survive the fall, and found myself at the apse of a cave system consisting of a single long nave which disappeared in a steadily descending gradient into darkness. And this is where I find myself still. The fall had shaken loose the uncontrollable panic that had unmanned me before, leaving me sufficiently lucid to create this written account of the events that led me to now. With the remainder, I will seek to describe in as much detail as I can certain discoveries I have made since regaining consciousness and to consider their potential implications. It is my dearest wish that these findings will one day leave this subterranean place and make it into the possession of my learned colleagues at the Society, even if I am not alive to accompany them.

On one side of the cavern wall there is a carving of an enormous circle comprised of six concentric layers. Though mysterious geometric sigils are not uncommon, the way this one aligns with Plato’s description of that famous lost kingdom of Poseidon is uncanny. Adjacent to this dominant petroglyph are carvings of a host of humanoid figures, which can be subdivided into two kinds. The first appears in a ranked formation twelve columns across and eight files deep and are alike with one another in seemingly every respect. Any significance attributable to this arrangement is likely found in the numbers twelve and eight. The former is a cosmic cipher, representing the zodiac, and occurs regularly in the world’s mythologies, such as in the number of hells believed to exist by ancient Egyptians and the amount of Titans identified by Hesiod amongst others. Meanwhile eight is considered lucky in traditional Chinese beliefs, was the magical numeral of the Sumerian deity Nebo and is the number of planets in our solar system. This last detail is interesting, if it was at all relevant to the makers of this carving, given that the seventh and eighth planets orbiting our sun were not discovered until many years after this was drawn. Above this formation are thirteen separate humanoid shapes, much larger than their counterparts with various personalised signifiers, from what look like antlered head dresses to weapons, armour and various other unidentifiable talismans and fetishes. These figures must represent some kind of royal or priestly leadership caste. Beyond the ringed symbol and the man-like depictions are a host of circles and swirls, presumably representing the cosmos, though with a degree of detail and scope that is singularly enticing. On the opposite wall there are petroglyphs depicting animals, most of which are recognisable species such as bears, wolves and deer whilst others are breeds long extinct, including woolly mammoths and some variety of large feline. However, there are yet more carvings of things distinctly animalistic and yet unrecognisable, a disturbing few possessing a combination of both beastly and hominid characteristics.

Strewn around the cavern floor are a number of bones, some of which are patently human in origin, even to my eyes untrained as they are in the formal disciplines of biology and osteology. One very curious specimen is largely intact, its skeletal frame still draped in moulded fabrics and clad in overlapping segments of heavily corroded plate, with even the hilt of a sword in a similar state of entropy still clutched in one wasted hand. Could this be the remains of one of Rome’s legionaries, even a member of the lost IX Hispania which disappeared from the annals of history so long ago? Deepening the mystery further there is amongst the bone hoard a neat mound of small granite spheres, greenish in hue, engraved with indecipherable characters, but bearing more than a passing resemblance to the ancient cuneiform script. Meanwhile, set against the cave wall are the remains of a shield, an axe and a breastplate, wrought out of heavily oxidised copper, giving the appearance of an ancient arming chamber belonging to some primordial warlord. But what is indisputably the greatest treasure I found in situ within a niche cut out of the head of the cave. A copper crown, warped with age, but polish bright sits pride of place amidst this unfathomable cornucopia. It could only belong to a giant, given its vast proportions, which are so prodigious I am certain it would rest on my shoulders if I dared to try it on. My mind is awash with a thousand thoughts and insensible notions and my imagination is afire. I am quite dazed with it all but must remain focussed, for the sake of posterity and the Society. It seems as though I have stumbled upon the haunt of a very ancient thing or things, undeniably connected to the legends of the Grey Man, with great and grave implications for historians and scientists and all such men of learning. I have given up hope of any rescue reaching me here, where I fell, and have resolved to venture down into the cave as far as the batteries in my torch will allow. I must swallow my fear of the Grey Man, which was surely the thing that sealed me down here, and of its powers and its labyrinth. God willing I will elaborate on this account with whatever I find below, but for now I bid you, the reader of this true and faithful attestation, farewell.

[Jake.Ashworth]

That was fun, but I feel so let down by there being no resolution to the ending. I loved reading it, there were a few grammatical errors and some punctuation issues, but that is to be expected. The breadth of the story was almost to great to be considered a "short" story. I loved that you explained so much, but if you attached a lengthy discovery and ending to the story, it could easily stretch into a novella. Keep up the great work and I look forward to seeing draft 2 when its done as well as anything else you want to post. We don't have enough writers on here.

[The Bloofer Lady]

Very nice indeed. I agree with Jake. I just wanted to keep reading but it stopped short. Are you adding more?

[Daniel Hayes]

Thanks for the encouraging words and helpful criticism fellas. Regarding the ending, I was leaving the fate of the narrator up to the reader, who could decide for his or herself why he was not willing, or able, to elaborate on any further discoveries. Also, this story was intended to form a part of a wider mythos, with each constituent element incrementally building on the wider tale, so I didn't want to give away too much in just one story. That being said, if the ending is unsatisfactory I could always add more

I have more work in the pipeline, which I'd also like to share with you good people in the fullness of time. Thanks again.

[Jake.Ashworth]

Originally Posted by Daniel Hayes

Thanks for the encouraging words and helpful criticism fellas. Regarding the ending, I was leaving the fate of the narrator up to the reader, who could decide for his or herself why he was not willing, or able, to elaborate on any further discoveries. Also, this story was intended to form a part of a wider mythos, with each constituent element incrementally building on the wider tale, so I didn't want to give away too much in just one story. That being said, if the ending is unsatisfactory I could always add more

I have more work in the pipeline, which I'd also like to share with you good people in the fullness of time. Thanks again.

My only concern with the ending, especially if it is supposed to pull together into a wider world, would be if the reader doesn't feel this story is complete they may not feel propelled to check out the rest of the work. Maybe find a way to tie it into another story toward the end, that way when you start the next short, you can start it at the tie in and the reader would feel immediately brought back into the world. So maybe you add a character, and build a bit of a profile and an attachment to that character, then have that character split off or get separated from this one prior to the fall. Then the next story could concentrate on future dealings with the added character with occasional flash backs to the trip where he or she lost her friend.