Owen Dembkoski “The Town of Watergorge, Massachusetts”

My name is Simon Gallagen, I am a newspaper reporter editor in Londonderry, New Hampshire. I try my best to keep to myself and not trouble others, however now is the time I finally reveal what happened to me in the August of 1931. I was 22, and I had just started my editorial career when a letter arrived from my estranged uncle, one Dr. Raymond Gallagen. Even as my only living relative, I know very little about the man, other than he was an archeologist who had spent many of his years on deep sea exploration, and lived in a small town in Massachusetts. The letter was damp, and had a green tint to the paper, but the contents were even more odd. The letter beckoned me to come to the town of Watergorge in Massachusetts, for he had made a discovery “Quite worth the drive.” The discovery mentioned was never disclosed, but its urgency was implied, so the next weekend I made the trip by bus down to Watergorge, Mass. At the last bus stop before my destination I saw that not soul was near the Watergorge bus… and the bus driver sent chills down my spine. He was elderly with grayish skin, and blading with big bulbous eyes that seemed to be lifeless, and his face… it seemed almost, fish like. Not discouraged, I climbed on the bus and made my final ride into the town. There was only one narrow road in and out of Watergorge, and the closer we got the more the smell of fish, no, more like rotted fish filled the air and the bus. When I asked the driver, he simply answered ‘fishing town’ before resuming his silence. Even with this logic answer, this smell seemed too prevalent even for all the fish in the world to create. The bus screeched to a halt on the edge of Watergorge. I payed the driver and started down the town’s main road looking for someone to help me find my uncle’s home. As I thought, the town was small, with a store, a church, some homes, and many ports and fishing stages. But there was also a large object in the town square, which I assumed to be a statue covered by a large tarp. Everything was stained with an algae green, as if they’d been half submerged in water, and the smell lingered wherever you were. The worst thing however, were the residents, who almost all appeared like the crooked bus driver, some more fish like than the others. All the townspeople were heading towards the church, and one of them, a very withered old man had a mask of a saint obscuring his face, waited at the door ushering people in. I was very paranoid after these observations and quickly made my way into the general store, trying to cool my nerves when I found that the store clerk seemed normal enough, and he when seeing me, seemed to think the same. “Gooday sir, my name is Simon Gallagen and I’m from New Hampshire ” I said. “Simon hmm, my name is Nathan Scott originally from New Jersey, but as you can see I now live in Watergorge.” he replied. “I..” I tried to start but Mr. Scott cut me off “I understand why you have come to this town, but please no matter how urgent, I urge you to go back from whence you came, because the other townsfolk don’t take kindly to outsiders, especially that one Old Farron.” he stated. “Old Farron, is that the masked man?” I questioned. “Yes, and he and the others will not like you snooping about Dr. Raymond’s place.” he replied. “Oh yes? Why’s that.” I inquired. “His discoveries… very much influenced them and… mean a great deal to them and… it.” “It? I said. “If you really want to know, than I can’t stop you. Your uncle’s house is the one with the chimney and the boarded windows.” he told me. “One more thing, if you intend to stay after dark, especially tonight, stay inside and don’t let any of the other townsfolk see you, it won’t end well.” he harrowingly said. I left the store and headed towards the home Mr. Scott described, and soon found myself at its front door. The door was suspiciously opened and left ajar, seeming like it had been broken into, a theory that was further supported by the broken lock hanging from the door. I explored the basically rotted building and discovered many archeological artifacts and indecipherable notes in a language I had never seen. My uncle Raymond was no where to be found, and there was a sheet covering something in the middle of the house, just like in the town square. I lifted the sheet to find some sort of ancient statue, which reeked and seemed to be the source of the houses rot. It depicted a god of some sort with horrible fish like attributes and a skeletal ribcage that seemed to be oozing something. So terrible was the idol that I dared not look at its face. It soon became night, and with no sign of my uncle and the horrible place I found myself in, I decided to leave. It was a full moon, and the tide along the coast roared and slammed into the piers, I rushed to the bus stop to see a sign saying no more buses today. I started to panic, blood rushing and heart pounding a ran back to the house, seeing the general store boarded up and strange lights coming from the church, and then the sea. I slammed the door and watched as a presion of villagers led by Old Farron made their way to the town center and started undoing the tarp, chanting in a cryptic tongue. Before I could see anything else, a fish like arm grabbed my mouth and pulled me down, before I was knocked out by a wooden bat. I awoke soon after to see my nightmarish situation, I was chained to the monstrous statue now fully revealed in town square, with the rest of the town starting to flood as the tide and now a growing storm slammed into the coast. The townspeople just stared, lifeless and unfeeling as Old Farron made his way up to me with a rotted fish in his hands. Now chanting, he started shoving the disgusting thing down my throat with me chocking a trying to scream for help. And as if by magic or whatever ritual was being preformed, the fish regained life and started squirming and thrashing in my body, which was unimaginably painful. I was in shock, but then the nightmare became even worse, with something coming out of the water. Without even seeing it I knew what it was and what it wanted. As it reached its impossibly big hand down for me, I couldn’t bare it any longer and passed out from fear… Somehow, I awoke next morning to find myself laying in the empty town square. The statue was gone, and so were most and if not all of the houses and buildings that made up Watergorge, save the still boarded up general store and the church. I pondered this extremely confusing situation as I walked to the bus stop, eager for whatever this was to be over, when I saw Old Farron sitting on a rocking chair. He had no mask on, and now looked like just a regular very old man. As I passed he said, “I hope you enjoyed your stay in our humble little town, and urge you to one day… come back.”. I hopped on the mourning bus without a word in reply and made my long trip back up to Londonderry. Everything seemed to return to normal, except my sleep. Every night, I have nightmares and visions of the god, him beckoning me to join him in the sunken city he reigns over, to shed my humanity and become everlasting. These dark dreams have seem to, overtaken me, as I have slowly started to look like the townsfolk of Watergorge, my hunger only for fish, and a deep calling to water. I can’t take it anymore, and so I write this to tell my story, for I plan to return to Watergorge and put an end to my suffering. -A note left on the desk of newspaper editior Simon Gallagen, days before his disappearance in August of 1933. He or his remains have never been found.