Of the Account of Jedediah Marsh, High Prist of Innsmouth

by Drew "Dagon's Daughter" Dahmer

The boy must’ve been drawn to Innsmouth, a calling in his blood that he couldn’t deny. We have all felt it, as elemental as the waves over Devil Reef. He wasn’t of the town, that is, he was not born here, but he was a part of it, just the same.

It was midwinter when he first arrived. We don’t keep track of the passing years here, as it makes no discernible difference to us. Our existence is much the same as it has always been. However, we did take stock of the seasons, as these made a more direct impact on our daily lives. It was intensely cold that winter, and many of us spent not only the nights, but the days as well tucked away in our buildings, next to fires or bundled in blankets. Fortunately for me, the Esoteric Order has always had an advanced heating system, and is never frigid, nor stifling, whatever the weather outside.

When the boy walked into the lobby of the Gilman, the clerk, from what he told me recently, from the outset noticed an air of familiarity that clung to the newcomer like the salt mist from the ocean. He had no trace of the Innsmouth Look in his angular, almost androgynous features, but something about his eyes...yes, this was what the clerk noticed most keenly. (I admit I made the same observation upon first meeting him.) His eyes were the color of the sea during a storm, steel grey and both dangerous, and benevolent. His eyes hearkened back to the old days, when Innsmouth was a thriving port, and its people strong and free. An air about the boy seemed to bring back that distant past and its strength to the shell that we were now. It was this, I believe, that led us to accept him.

Once the boy uttered his first words to the clerk, these being his name, Temple Bishop, it was clear who he was, and why he belonged here. It was only natural that he should return to the place of his mother’s birth, and this would be forgiven of any outsider.

He is fortunate, that when he stepped into the Esoteric Order Of Dagon, he was quick enough to mention his mother’s name. Had I not known Millicent Waite personally, I would not have been able to see the resemblance to her, and thus might have killed him outright. I suppose I am partly at fault for not locking the doors, but no outsiders are EVER curious enough to open them. I’ve been a high-priest here for over twenty years now, and Temple is the first to break the rules.

I could sense immediately the reason for his Mother and Father’s hasty decision to accelerate his induction into his birth right. Temple seemed to radiate a certain kindness and respect for all living things that would never be eclipsed by something so intrinsically evil as a lust for power.

As he came to be a part of the town, and was under my instruction, he devoured my teachings as if they were sustenance. Taking to every lesson with enthusiasm and grace. He performed every rite with exact precision, and an attention to detail that I’d not previously been privy to.

When we were not fulfilling our roles as instructor and pupil, the boy would sit with me and ask me to recount tales of Innsmouth’s rich cultural history, rounding out his lessons in how to implement our rituals with the knowledge of how they were born. Temple was exceedingly intelligent, and followed all of my words with utmost understanding and attention.

His concern for my declining health was touching. I have never been close with anyone outside our village, and yet I sensed I could trust this boy. And so, when we sat down to our evening discussions, I was always more open with him than I have ever been with an outsider, or ever will be again. As he was concerned for my well-being, so too was I with his. Over the course of the first few months he visited me, I’d started to think on him as the son I’d never had. Though I could never attempt to replace his own father, whom it was evident that he loved very much, I hoped still that he would feel a similar warmth toward me.

On the evening of the day he moved into the Order, after he’d unpacked his few belongings, we sat out on the rear balcony, facing the tides rolling in, and conversed well into the night. I told him the story of Innsmouth’s Savior, Obed Marsh, and though he’d heard the tale countless times in his youth from his mother, he listened as if hearing it for the first time. He did this at every subsequent retelling as well. It was one of the traits I’d come to like most about him. The ineffable ability to revisit old memories through the new eyes of a child. He’d seen, and done many terrible things out of necessity, but was not sick with experience. I sincerely hope that he will never lose this quality, as I believe it will take him far in his quest for knowledge.

When I’d finished my story, Temple picked up a small piece of driftwood that I’d left out for him, took out a small folding knife that he always kept on his person, and began whittling away at it, (Something that two of the locals here had apparently trained him in.) carving into the wood intently. As he cut, carved and shaped the thing into being, he asked me about my life.

“Were you born here?” He started simply.

“I was.” I told him.

“How old are you?”

I would’ve thought this rude from anyone but him. I knew he meant no harm, and I saw none in answering. “I am Seventy Six years of age.”

Temple seem ed to ponder this a moment. “Were your parents living here at the time of the raids?” He never met my eyes, instead concentrating on his woodwork.

I was surprised he’d heard of the events of 1928, but again, saw no harm in humoring him. “Yes.” I replied in an even tone. “They had already begun to evolve, blessed with the blood of the Deep Ones, and when the outsider officials invaded our village, were able to escape to Y’ha-nthlei .” The latter being an underwater city off the coast, beyond Devil Reef. The entrance of which was known only to the Deep Ones and the residents of Innsmouth.

“When the infidels finally vacated, our community left in smoking ruins, my family, alongside the other survivors , returned in secrecy under cover of night to rebuild and repopulate Innsmouth. I was the first child born after the attacks.”

Temple looked up from his woodworking then, meeting my eyes with undisguised curiosity. “You were?” He asked. When I nodded my confirmation, his expression changed. He seemed perplexed by something. “Then, why weren’t YOU the High Priest sooner? I mean, why your stepson, and then his niece?” He’d certainly been paying attention to my stories.

“The Head of the Order is not chosen lightly.” I explained to him. “The age, knowledge, and desire of the applicants are of no true consequence or value. To gain this title, you must have not only the natural abilities required, but also the approval of Father Dagon and Mother Hydra, may the Deep Ones be praised.”

He still had a look of befuddlement writ across his features. “They didn’t approve of you?”

I smiled at his tone of voice, which bore a distinct note of offense. “No, dear boy, it was not that which kept me from the work. In all honesty, I did not WANT the title at first, and so had not been trained. No one, including myself knew what, if any, aptitude I possessed for this position.” My smile faded here, as I remembered my son, who I’d disowned, if that is the correct modem aphorism, at the age of eleven. One of my few true regrets.

Temple had a maddening way of sensing what was in the minds and hearts of anyone he spoke openly with. This was true (And created no small amount of apprehension among our locals.) of the townspeople he’d spoken to, and it was true in this instance as well. The boy knit his eyebrows together in concern and spoke softly when he asked: “Why don’t you ever talk about your stepson? I know I have no right to ask, but you seem so sad whenever you think about him. What happened?”

I drew in a long, deep breath. I knew I’d have to address this inquiry sooner or later, but it was a topic I had hoped to avoid indefinitely. Still, there was no logical reason Temple shouldn’t know. After all, I was sharing the secrets of our world with him, and this should be no different.

“He was not of my blood, and I suppose that is part of the reason I kept my distance from him, but it was more than this. The day he began his training, he was seven. It must seem an odd thing to you, to begin priesthood at such an early age?”

The boy shook his head. “No, it doesn’t. Dunwich is pretty much the same way where that’s concerned. My parents began my training at birth.” I nodded slowly to him. It was good that he had a grasp of such concepts, as this would make my tale easier for him to understand.

“Right from the beginning, he was a headstrong child. I had married his mother, Beatrice Gilman, when he was only two, but even then, Dylan was quite a handful.” My eyes wandered to the clear night sky as I called up the remembered image of his face as a toddler. “In any case, once he began his training, there was no stopping him. Nothing in life interested him besides the Order, and he never developed any friends or lovers.” This last seemed to make Temple uneasy, and he squirmed a bit on the floor. Seeing parallels in his own past, I expect. “He shut Beatrice and myself out in that way equally efficiently.” I said this to ease Temple’s mind, for I knew his own bond with his parents was strong, and he could not honestly be compared with Dylan. One was cold and unfeeling, the other pensive and loving. This seemed to pacify him. He went back to his carving.

“He was...a difficult child to love, and I admit that I did not during that time. It was my failing as much as his own that he turned out the way he did. Without the benefit of a father’s love, how can one expect a child to grow into a decent man?” Temple shook his head sadly, pausing in his work to reach up and place a hand on one of my own, it was his attempt at solace. I smiled down at him and patted his hand in thanks. “And so, he grew up with all the knowledge and intelligence of our race, but none of its warmth or compassion. He ordered people about as if they were servants, toyed with womens’ hearts and cast them aside like garbage, and grew ever more callous and power hungry. When he was eleven, and came fully into his birth right after the ritual of placement, when Father Dagon and Mother Hydra approved his role as Head of the Order. He took to his work voraciously, and one day announced that the Order would be taking in adepts from surrounding towns.”

Temple’s eyes widened. “But I thought no one outside of Innsmouth was allowed into the E.O.D.!” He blurted. He closed his mouth abruptly and placed a hand over it as if his words might be taken in offense.

I felt no such negative emotion toward him , of course, and waved the thought away with one hand. “No, no. You have every right to address that issue, and you are in fact, correct. It was this decision that influenced myself and the majority of his parishioners to have nothing further to do with him. I moved out of my own household and took up residence with another like minded traditionalist to avoid any contact with him. Only his mother, who was his equal in her lack of love and desire for power, stood by him throughout the entire debacle. When he reached the age of thirteen, the town had been split in twain by his tyranny, between the followers of our traditional Order, and the zealots of this new church, including many outsiders who had moved into town without permission. On the night of his fourteenth birthday, he organized a group in secrecy that planned to dive to Y’ha-nthlei with the help of some new fangled underwater breathing apparatuses, and kill Father Dagon, Mother Hydra, and most of the citadel’s resident Deep Ones.

Temple’s head cocked to one side as he exclaimed, “Great Gods, WHY?”

I shook my head, sneering in disgust. “Because then, he and his minions would hold supreme power over Innsmouth, and eventually the world, I suspect. He did not wish to answer to any power outside his own.” I stopped abruptly here, feeling a familiar tightening in my throat, eyes misting over in my guilt and grief. It was a full minute or so before I was able to continue.

Temple had, in this short time, stood up and fished out a handkerchief from his pants pocket to offer to me. I gained control over myself, cursing my weakness at this memory, and refused his offer quietly. I patted his hand again in gratitude for the kind gesture. Temple took his place again at my feet, crossed his legs and waited patiently for me to finish. Lord Cthulhu, how I wished then that I’d had a son more like this remarkable boy.

“Their plot failed, thank the Old Ones, but not before there had been a significant loss of life on either side. He and his mother were killed, as were all of those who went with them. Father Dagon and Mother Hydra were so enraged by this attack that they sent messengers out into the town to inform the faithful of what had happened, and what must be done. I, and all the other loyal people of Innsmouth, slew the rest of these evil cretins, and reclaimed the Esoteric Order of Dagon. The surf and sand of the coast was red for days with the blood of unbelievers. Dagon had even cast out the corpses of those who had initiated the attacks and we buried them outside of the town’s boundaries in a large hole, unmarked by any ceremony or headstone. The very next day, Ascentia began her training. I’m certain you can understand why I still avoided the honor at that time.”

Temple nodded solemnly, dropping his eyes to the floor. It was as if he could feel my own sadness, and perhaps he could, for his eyes when he met mine after a time were as wet as my own. “And Ascentia did well?” He asked, thankfully changing the conversation to a happier subject.

“Yes. She was a gift from the Old Ones themselves. She loved all the town’s inhabitants, and we loved her in return.”

Temple seemed to hesitate a moment before asking, “What happened to her? I’m sorry if that’s a rude question, but the people in town talk about her all the time, then clam up every time I ask why she isn’t the High Priestess now.”

I allowed myself a small laugh. The boy was entirely ignorant of some of our ways, yet had no idea how so. At my laughter, he looked hurt, as if I’d scolded him like an insolent child. “Oh, Temple. You never cease to amaze me.” I told him, to allay any fears or misunderstanding. “Here there is an unwritten law about speaking of any former Order member’s death or disappearance.”

He grimaced, perhaps thinking of all the times he’d broken this rule since coming here. “Oh. I’m sorry, I didn’t know.” He was sullen.

I patted his shoulder to show he had nothing to fear of reprisal from me. “It’s all right. You had no way of knowing, and since it is common knowledge to most of us here, I see no reason not to satisfy your curiosity. He looked up eagerly.

“The truth of the matter is, that no one is quite sure what happened to Ascentia. While she was away at college, she still came back at regular intervals to fulfill her duties as High Priestess. On one such occasion, when she was due back for an important invocation, she simply did not turn up. As far as I know, no one has heard from her since. I stepped in that night as the most experienced practitioner of our ways, and, out of necessity have never left. There are many speculations and rumors about what might have happened to her, but no one truly knows for certain what became of Ascentia.

Temple nodded, curiosity sated for the moment, and reflected on what he’d learned tonight. “The people here are lucky to have you, then. I’ve never met anyone so wise.” This came as a shock. I was taken completely aback by this unexpected compliment. I wasn’t even able to respond. Temple smiled at my speechless face, then placed the item he’d so recently finished carving into my right palm. “That one’s for you.” He told me quickly. “For letting me stay here, and teaching me so much.” I brought the figure up to my face to closely examine it in the dim light of the moon. It was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. It was, irrefutably, the image of Dagon, and I was amazed by the exact likeness. Especially considering that Temple had never, to my knowledge met Him face-to-face. I was astounded. Every minute detail of the Greatest of the Deep Ones was represented here, in this tiny piece of wood. I still have the figure in a place of honor on my personal altar to this day.

“It’s...breathtaking...” Was all the praise I could manage, admittedly unequal to the gift as it was. “Thank you, Temple. I don’t believe I’ve ever received a finer gift.”

This seemed to make the boy uncomfortable, and I expected that he was as ill used to praise as myself. He ran a hand through his hair in a nervous gesture before replying. “You’re welcome. Um, I think I’m going to go to bed now. I’ve had kind of a long day.”

I stood up to let him pass, then surprised myself by embracing him before he left . He was equally surprised, but returned the gesture, then turned to leave. “Temple,” I had made up my mind to be more open with my affections towards him, so as not to repeat mistakes of the past.

He turned his head toward me. “Yes?” He asked quietly.

I took a deep breath before concluding. “I’m proud of the work you’ve done here, and of the person you’ve become, but I hope that...you’ll return here once you find your true destination, even if you have nothing more to learn from me.”

He smiled, turned and hugged me again. “I will, Jedediah,” He said to me me gently. “And I hope I can be a better son to you than Dylan was.” Again, he had read my thoughts and voiced them. I hugged him back forcefully, then broke away as the boy left. I sat back in my chair, looked out at the sea, and wept. Yet these, for the first time, were not bitter tears of despair, but ones filled with hope, joy, and relief. Mighty Cthulhu had answered my prayers and blessed me the day Temple arrived, may his name be praised. I had gained not only a brilliant pupil, but a friend, confidant, and apprentice. More importantly than all those things, however, I had gained a son.

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