A Foggy Harbor

The docks were amazing at night. I was sitting on the southern docks of Helsinki eating dinner (a fresh herring broiled to a crisp and seasoned with tarragon and shallots). The moon glistened a light yellow hue. I sipped a warm relaxant tea and hummed songs of war. The water swayed softly and lapped at the docks, the moonlight reflecting off its surface. I finished my herring and laid the metal tin, which I ate from, to my right side. A light breeze signaled it was time to rest for the night; after all, I would have a difficult day tomorrow. Ilmari is bringing his ship round to drop off another crop of fish along with something strange he found at a foreign port. I carried my tin and cup into my cabin just a block off the port. The walk was always lengthened by a large cat that hissed and yowled as I passed, which awakened my neighbor Anna, an old woman who used to run a stall at the fish market which was just a few meters from where I worked; Anna was a kind person; she granted me free herring in return for carrying boxes for her. Anna came out to greet me just as the feline finished its calls. She was holding a tin of cookies to thank me for moving her plants indoors. I thanked her and returned to my home where I washed my dishes and began preparing for bed.

It was daybreak, and a single beam of light shone through my poorly positioned window as I gathered my things. The walk to work was brief. I thought about what strange object Ilmari might’ve found as I passed the large cat, now fully asleep atop a small section of brick wall. As the harbor drew near, I saw Leo, my friend from our post at the Mannerheim line. In his hand, he had several letters and was delivering them to some of the returning sailors. I approached him, and we made small talk. I asked if he knew when Ilmari would be returning, to which he responded, “He should have come back by now. He might’ve been blown off course.” I remarked that the sea was very calm and that no storms had been reported for the last month. His assessment was unlikely to be correct. We spoke for a while before he went off to finish his deliveries, and I returned to my post and began unloading German imports from an Austrian vessel; the captain was a messy, gaunt, well-dressed fellow with a large mustache. He smoked a huge red cigar and sipped from a flask every so often without removing the cigar from his mouth. He had a strange symbol on his clothing and items: a yellow circle from which extended 3 yellow tendrils coiled inward at stupendous angles. He motioned for me to come with him onto the deck for a talk. I agreed and followed. He spoke of Ilmari. He said that they met him at the last port and that he had assumed that he would have already arrived at the port by now. I voiced my concerns, and the captain handed me a bottle of imported bourbon then led me below deck. It was very cold there. He said that I could have the bottle for my troubles and told me to help him move a strange-looking crate with a brand that read “Arkham Institute Property.” We lifted the crate from the bowels of the ship, and I continued my usual work, moving the rest of the imports off the boat and onto trucks to ship inland. After several hours my work was done, and I assisted Henry, our English translator, in going through the ship's cargo. The captain of the ship sat resting his arms on the outer railings and drinking fruit juice as he oversaw our work. He steadily began departure as soon as we had finished our search. By then, the night was steadily approaching, and the yellow hue of the sun caused the waters to faintly glow with a soft yellowish tint. A fog was approaching the harbor. I decided to eat my dinner at home and went on my way; perhaps I could avoid that cat, I thought. That night, in my dreams, I saw strange yellow figures composed of cloth and a dense fog from which I was lashed with a whip of terrifying size. A low hum was increasing in volume as I awoke. The air was thin and cold as I lifted myself off my bed. It was somewhere around the midnight hours. I went to look out my window; I looked toward the bins, my neighbor’s homes, and then to the docks where I saw a boat, not unlike Ilmari’s. I quickly got dressed and picked up my lantern. The investigation was brief. Upon approaching the vessel, a blinding yellow light emanated from its interior. The light drifted back and forth through the lower deck and caused the portcullis to vibrate furiously. I shivered. Suddenly the light began to fade along with the boat's power. I thought it wise to retrieve my firearm, so I turned to run back, but I felt a hand on my shoulder. I looked back to its source…it was Ilmari! Though he was pale and bruised, he wore a light yellow robe which seemed to be of the finest silk and a yellow crown made from what looked to be gold. After further inspection I found that Ilmari was dead. I ran to my home and grabbed my rifle, then ran toward the nearby guard post, I explained what had happened, and they sent four officers with me to investigate the rest of the ship. I and the officers stepped onto the deck of the ship and looked into the captain's room, which looked to be adorned with the finest of gilded luxuries and gemstones as well as expensive foreign alcohols and a strange book titled “The King In Yellow.'' We were confused by the wealth that Ilmari had suddenly accumulated. We then moved into the lower deck and saw a scene beyond the description of mortal tongue: the flesh and blood of Ilmari’s crew used as paint and wallpaper whilst the bones were fashioned into some form of shrine to what appeared to be an ancient deity. The four guardsmen ran out immediately and began regurgitating their last meals; I held a cloth to my nose and mouth and searched the shrine as well as the nearby remnants of the crew. I was a medic back during the war, and I’ve never seen such perfect stitch work. It was as if this room was a temple forged by some master craftsmen. The room must have been created very recently because the flesh was still moist and springy. I and two other guardsmen left to retrieve lead investigator Heilri from his home on the other side of the city, while the other two gathered samples and took photos of Ilmari’s bejeweled and defiled ship. Upon our return, however, the ship and the two guardsmen were gone; they had vanished without any evidence of their being. Heilri examined the docks for hours and came up with nothing.

Three weeks have passed since this incident, and my nightmares have become far more jarring. The guardsman who accompanied me and Heilri have since gone missing. I feel a creeping dread in my spine and a might of paranoia. Could this be vengeance for the lives I took in the war? Could this be just my mind? Or is it something greater than myself? I won’t decide. Perhaps if I make an altar of my own I can gain some semblance of closure or even an answer from this deity itself...