Arkham Horror RPG

Grave Rumors – Part Three

2024 / 08 / 05

By SA Sidor & AP Klosky

Welcome back! For those of you who have enjoyed Grave Rumors so far, we’re excited to present the final installment of this brand-new series of short stories.

As a reminder, Grave Rumors follows the adventures of witty Arkham Advertiser reporter Minnie Klein as she investigates missing corpses, vandalized graveyards, and a skin-crawling stalker disturbing the rest of Arkham’s dead… Events which lead directly into the highly anticipated Arkham Horror RPG: The Hungering Abyss. But don’t worry, it’s all completely spoiler-free. 

And, you’ll find thrilling new newspaper stories and artifacts available as downloadable player handouts, allowing you to bring the story straight into your game.

As Minnie’s grim investigation comes to an end, she realizes that this is just the beginning… 

Grieving Widow Causes Disturbance at Arkham Advertiser Headquarters

Arkham Advertiser, September 6, 1926

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Following a shocking display of grief, newly widowed Lita Chantler was arrested and held on charges of disturbing the peace after causing an incident outside the offices of the Arkham Advertiser. 

Chantler arrived at the Uptown building shouting obscenities toward staff and other individuals, claiming they had played a role in her husband’s recent demise. Mrs. Chantler made her way into the Advertiser’s headquarters, pushing past the security guard and several staff members. She proceeded to throw office items at the walls and at Advertiser staffers. While Chantler maintained this barrage, Advertiser staff swiftly called Arkham police. While waiting for the deputies, Mrs. Chantler was subdued by three print-house workers, who arrived having heard the commotion. They corralled and restrained Mrs. Chantler until Arkham police arrived on the scene.

Mrs. Chantler continued to cast aspersions on the Advertiser’s staff, insinuating an ongoing relationship to an unknown organization that she claimed had infiltrated Arkham’s society. The Advertiser strongly denies these accusations, particularly noting Mrs. Chantler’s lack of evidence and her state of mind. The Arkham Advertiser prides itself on the importance of its journalistic integrity within the greater Miskatonic community.

Police placed Mrs. Chantler under arrest with charges of disturbing the peace, vandalism, and attempted battery. Mrs. Chantler complied and went peaceably, but not quietly. The widow was held in city jail, pending her release on $35 bail. A hearing has been set for Mrs. Chantler’s charges with the Arkham magistrate’s office.

Based solely upon her ravings throughout the encounter, Mrs. Chantler also believes that the Arkham Advertiser has been withholding information regarding the unfortunate death of her late husband, John Chantler. Mr. Chantler’s death was ruled a tragic accident, and his funeral was a well-attended, somber affair held at Arkham’s Duterte Funeral Home.

Advertiser reporters did attempt to question Mrs. Chantler during her brief incarceration, but Mrs. Chantler has been advised by her lawyer to refrain from commenting on the ongoing legal case. Arkham Deputy Dingby, however, did provide commentary, “Freedom of the press is one of our real, important rights. As police, it’s our job to defend that. She may not like it, but Mrs. Chantler’s actions were real inappropriate. She’ll have her day in court to tell her side, but you can’t just walk into a business and start throwing a fit like that.”

During the event, four Arkham Advertiser employees suffered minor injuries and were taken to St. Mary’s Hospital. While two were released immediately, having suffered minor bruising, one employee was admitted overnight for observation, having sustained a minor concussion from a thrown paperweight. The identities of these Advertiser employees remain confidential.

The Arkham Advertiser wishes nothing but the best for Mrs. Chantler, despite the circumstances of this confrontation. While her husband’s death was tragic and without satisfactory resolution, it is our hope that Mrs. Chantler receives the care and understanding she needs and will hopefully return to society a reformed, healthy, and peaceful woman.

Grave Rumors Part Three: The Lies

No stranger to Easttown, Minnie Klein had spent many a dreary morning, noon, and night covering crime stories at the Arkham police station. By now the neighborhood was familiar to her, but she wouldn’t say she ever felt comfortable visiting. It wasn’t the run-down housing or the haphazard streets that wound through intermittent patches of dense woods that made it feel perilous. The working poor lived there, but for every dilapidated shack with boarded-over windows, she’d also see a well-tended cottage displaying flowers, a garden, or a fresh coat of paint. Most of the homes fell somewhere in-between, places where regular folks lived out their daily joys and sorrows, cooked their meals, entertained family and friends, and rested their weary bodies.

No, it wasn’t the people that gave the place its unsettling energy, either. Something vaguer, and more sinister, lingered in the air like a miasma. The land itself felt blighted, perhaps even cursed, as if a malignant presence percolated there, floating up from the ground to hang sourly in place, befouling everything and everyone who had the misfortune to brush up against it, however briefly. Minnie always took a bath after she spent time in Easttown to feel clean again. 

She turned onto a street she’d never driven down before and pressed the gas pedal, glancing at the piece of paper in her hand. It was Lita Chantler’s address. Minnie wanted to talk to the woman, to inquire into the details of her husband’s unsolved murder, and to ask if she was the person Minnie saw peeking through the window of the groundskeeper’s shed at the graveyard last night. What did Lita know? Did she have any knowledge of the strange goings-on in Arkham? Had she witnessed the same thing that Minnie did? The body snatchers and a figure dressed in robes who wore the antlered skull of a dead animal and lurked among the headstones and monuments to the dead… who were they?

Minnie decided not to call ahead first. Catching Lita off-guard at home was her best shot at getting the information she sought. If Lita had time to think, she might balk at the idea of meeting with a reporter from the newspaper that had called the cops on her. The woman had problems. Her husband was dead. She was angry. Maybe she was right to feel frustrated with cops like Billy Cooper in town. Maybe Minnie was just the person to help her, or at least, maybe she would point Minnie in the right direction.

A few houses appeared around the bend. She slowed as she passed by but couldn’t see any address numbers. The street straightened, and dwellings soon popped up on both sides of the road. Some of the homes had numbers on them. Minnie counted her way to Lita’s homestead. The building looked older than its neighbors and in need of repairs, but it didn’t really stand out. 

She drove past.

At the first crossroads, Minnie turned her Model T around and headed back up the street. She parked a couple houses away from the Chantler residence, shut off the engine, and waited. The morning sun shone brightly in a robin’s egg blue sky. A pleasant breeze was blowing, and with the motor off, Minnie heard the Miskatonic River gurgling nearby and smelled its dank, fishy mud. She sat watching the house, not knowing what she was looking for. A sign of danger? Or a tingle of spookiness that might warn her away from paying a visit to a woman who caused trouble? Minnie thought of herself in much the same way: a pot-stirrer, a seeker of truth and justice. No, she wasn’t about to write off Lita Chantler. Not without meeting her first. She remembered what Rex Murphy said about avoiding Lita.

Since when did Rex steer clear of the perils of being a reporter? Minnie silently acknowledged Rex for his advice, but she made her own choices. Thank you very much. She got out of her car and walked up to the Chantler house.

The crabgrass-and-clover-filled lawn was dead brown. The house matched it. There was no automobile parked on the premises, but a lot of people couldn’t afford cars. That didn’t mean Lita wasn’t home. The bushes next to the porch needed a good trim. Sprawling branches blocked the windows of the small cottage, and when the wind blew, they scratched at the glass like stiff, hungry fingers. A second-floor room jutted out over the stoop, creating a pocket of shade. Mounting the chipped stone steps, feeling grit crunching underfoot, Minnie knocked on the door. And got no answer. She stepped back a few feet, pausing, pretending to check her wristwatch, and then went back and tried knocking again, louder this time. Sometimes people wanted to look at a stranger before opening their door, especially in Easttown. They had reasons to be careful.

It was a quiet, peaceful morning, which is why she could hear someone inside the house, moving in the room above her. The floorboards were squeaky and the walls paper-thin. Clear footsteps. Maybe Lita had slept in, or she couldn’t sleep at all. Either way she was up now, walking around.

“Mrs Chantler! I’d like to talk with you!” Minnie didn’t care if the neighbors were eavesdropping, listening to her shout at the closed-up house. Whatever it took, she wanted Lita to open that door. If it wasn’t out of curiosity or politeness, let it be embarrassment that brought her downstairs to answer a few questions. Lita didn’t seem the type to avoid confrontation. “It’s about your husband, Mrs Chantler! I think I can help you, or maybe you might help me. Please!”

The footsteps stopped.

Minnie backed up far enough that she could look up at the second-floor window. It was smudgy and dark. Limp, gauzy curtains hung behind the pane. The sunlight was hitting the glass, but she couldn’t see past the curtains. They were open a few inches, a slice of charcoal darkness wedged between them, but if somebody was standing there, they were invisible to her.

“I can see you!” Minnie lied. “Why don’t you come down so we can talk? This is silly.”

Nothing. The house was silent.

Minnie wondered for a moment if she’d imagined the noises coming from inside. Or did the Chantlers have a pet, a dog maybe? But no, a dog wouldn’t avoid coming to the window. She’d hear them barking, too. And dogs didn’t wear shoes. Lita Chantler was home, for sure.

Not wanting to give up too easily, Minnie decided to walk around the house. If Lita saw her poking around, maybe that would provoke her sufficiently to smoke her out of hiding. Minnie went around to the south side of the property. There were small windows here and no bushes. She stood on her tiptoes and pressed her face to the window. The glass was dirty, but she could see inside. An unlit interior. The kitchen. Dark oak cabinets. The room looked cluttered, messy, dishes stacked by the sink, coffee cups on the table. Newspapers piled beside them. Minnie saw a fly on the other side of the glass, crawling zigzag across the reflection of her face.

 She slipped the pencil from behind her ear and tapped the glass – a sharp rapping that was sure to annoy Lita. “C’mon, Mrs Chantler! I’m not leaving until you speak to me!”

Minnie went around the back, knocking at the back door, looking in the window at a sewing room, then around the other side of the house, into a smaller, square, high-mounted aperture with frosted glass and ruffled curtains pulled tight on the other side. A bathroom. She didn’t bother with that one. In no time, she was back in the front yard. She shielded her eyes from the sun and talked to the upstairs window with the limp, gauzy curtains.

“I’ll tell you what,” she said. “I’m going to write you a note. Slide it under the door. You read it and see what you think. Meanwhile, I’m going to get a bite to eat. I’ll be back, though.”

Minnie wrote a quick message to Lita, tore the page from her reporter’s notebook, folded it in half and slipped it under the edge of the door. As she bent over, a draft from inside the house curled up toward her face, and she smelled stale musty air, but something else too, a metallic iron odor that reminded her of a butcher shop. Then Minnie remembered that Lita’s dead husband had been a butcher. Maybe she had a pile of his old dirty work clothes in need of washing. Grief made a person do strange things sometimes. Minnie wrinkled her nose and started walking away.

When she had almost reached the street, she whirled around, spinning as quickly as she could, her skirt whipping against her legs, and that’s when she saw it – only a glimpse, but there was no doubt – someone stood at the window, pulling aside the gauzy curtain to watch Minnie on her way back to her car. The curtain twitched, dropped back in place, swaying gently.

I got you, Minnie thought. I knew you were in there.

She smiled to herself as she turned back, continuing to her Model T. She hoped Lita would read her note and consider her offer. If not, Minnie would come back to the house. If nothing else, she was persistent, and Lita had to know that a woman on a mission won’t stop.

Minnie wasn’t fibbing when she yelled to Lita that she was going to get something to eat. Her belly growled like a hungry little lapdog, reminding her that she hadn’t eaten since yesterday’s dinner. She knew one place in Easttown where the food was decent and cheap.

Velma’s Diner was a local institution. Open all night, the restaurant rotated its clientele according to the hour of the day. Minnie was used to seeing a nighttime crew of heavy-eyed insomniacs, ruffians, and grizzled street warriors who were either ducking in to escape the weather or the cruelness of the night itself. These patrons stayed long enough to enjoy a bowl of soup, chili and oyster crackers, maybe a hot turkey sandwich, or if they were feeling ambitious, a generous helping of meatloaf and mashed potatoes dented with a ladleful of brown gravy. Most of the diner’s visitors sat at the counter with their shoulders hunched, swilling coffee by the gallon, their posture conveying a healthy disdain for the other customers. 

It was late morning as Minnie entered the railcar diner, missing the breakfast rush and beating the lunchtime regulars to their seats. Although she was alone, she slid into a booth. A waitress named Agnes handed her a menu and filled her cup.

“Is it too late to get the Lumberjack Breakfast?” Minnie asked.

“Let me check,” Agnes said. She went behind the counter and talked to the line cook and came back to the booth, smiling. “Duncan says he’ll make it for you, if you order right now.”

“That’s what I’ll have. I’m starving.” Minnie yawned. “Sorry, I’ve been up all night.”

“Our coffee’s strong enough it might walk out the door on its own.”

“Terrific. I need it.”

Agnes scratched her order on the ticket and left the table.

Minnie was thinking about the note she’d left for Lita back at the house. It said that Minnie was a reporter and that she had information about Lita’s husband’s murder. She requested that Lita meet her at the Advertiser’s office in two hours. Minnie hoped that the bait was juicy enough to lure Lita out of seclusion. The information Minnie had was a tenuous connection to Rita Young’s missing friend. Officer Billy Cooper had rousted Lita from the sidewalk in front of the newspaper and he’d refused to help Rita. Minnie was banking on the fact there was more to Cooper and his involvement in these cases. The thread was thin, she knew, but she was willing to bet that Lita and Cooper had history together, and that it wasn’t good. Lita’s beef with the police had to originate somewhere, and there were only so many cops in Arkham. Minnie figured that once she got face-to-face with Lita, it wouldn’t take much to get her started about the police’s failure of duty. After all, the woman had protested the department in public.

Minnie sipped her coffee and looked out the diner window at the cars rolling by on the cobblestone street. The air was crisp on this street, and everything appeared scrubbed clean. Even the people walking past had a glow on them, every detail standing out in sharp focus. A pale man with a long, unbuttoned coat and a copy of the Advertiser tucked under his arm, strode along the sidewalk. He glanced up at her with gray eyes and quickened his pace. Who knew why he was in a hurry?

Life was filled with mysteries and puzzles. Some would never be explained, but others were solvable. Minnie was convinced that she’d be able to untangle these cases of missing people and stolen bodies. The impact of what she’d witnessed last night was finally hitting her. Who was that figure wearing the animal skull mask? What kind of person dresses in robes and stalks people in graveyards, then chuckles at them when they fall into a grave? And those creatures digging up the graves – they weren’t human, but they weren’t totally animals, either. They existed somewhere in-between. Memories of their muscled bodies clawing at the earth and the unnatural eyes of the one who smelled her and stood like a man caused a whole-body shiver.

“Want to move to the counter?” Agnes startled her as she delivered plates to her table.

“Excuse me?”

“It’s colder sitting here by the window. The chill travels right through the glass.”

“Oh no, I’m fine, thanks.” Minnie pulled her sweater tighter. “I just need to eat.”

Agnes refilled her cup. “Let me know if you want anything else.” She walked away.

The door opened, and another woman entered the restaurant. Minnie hadn’t noticed her outside. She nodded to Agnes and sat in the next booth down, facing Minnie. The woman looked to be in her thirties and had wavy reddish hair that curled below her shoulders, and a strong jaw. Her face was haggard, but the eyes were alert and slightly bugged-out. She ordered a slice of cherry pie before Agnes could bring a menu. When the pie arrived, she didn’t eat it but poked at the slice with her fork while she stared at Minnie. Minnie smiled at her and nodded. Still the woman wouldn’t look away. The intensity of her gaze prevented Minnie from enjoying her meal.

“Is there a problem?” Minnie asked her.

“Might be.” The woman tapped her fork against the edge of her plate and kept staring.

Do I know you? Minnie wondered. The woman’s face seemed so familiar, but she couldn’t quite place where she recognized her–

Oh, my goodness, Minnie thought, with a gasp. She felt as if she’d been shaken roughly awake after falling half asleep. It’s the woman I saw looking through the window of the groundskeeper’s shed. It’s Lita Chantler. Minnie put down her knife and fork. She tried to remain calm. But her heart was racing. Agnes the waitress had disappeared into the kitchen with the line cook. She couldn’t see either of them. The two women were alone. Minnie picked up her knife again and slipped her hand under the table. “You read my note, I see.”

“Your note?” Lita frowned. “I saw you at my house. Are you one of them?”

“I’m a reporter, like I said.”

Lita guffawed. “You didn’t say anything. At least I couldn’t hear you.” Lita got up quickly and joined Minnie in her booth. She left behind her coffee and pie. The woman was even more intense up close. She vibrated with an unpredictable power. Minnie gripped the knife hard. “What do you want?” Lita asked, resting her elbows on the table and thrusting her head forward.

“I only want to talk,” Minnie said.

“So, talk.”

The door opened and a rush of cool air swirled around the floor as two men wearing blue uniform work-shirts and overalls ambled over to the counter and took corner seats. They were laughing about a third man who’d gotten fired that day after not showing up for over a week. They were guessing he’d met a woman and gone off on a wild bender. The fool had left his tools.

“I think your husband must’ve gotten mixed up in something he didn’t understand,” Minnie said, lowering her voice. “The police aren’t doing their job. They’re not investigating where they should be. Some officers, like Billy Cooper for example, are ignoring the leads.”

“Really?” Lita looked at her with skepticism, arching one eyebrow. “Do tell me more.”

“We can help each other, Mrs Chantler,” Minnie said. “I know we can.”

“How?”

“For starters, we should share information.”

“You want me to tell you what I know? Is that it?”

“Yes.”

“I know I can’t trust you.” Lita gritted her teeth. “You could be one of them. You look the way they do. Like life’s being drained out of you. Skin as white as a fancy napkin. It makes sense they’d have one of their own working at the newspaper, spreading lies, twisting the truth out of shape, and keeping people in the dark.” Lita sat back, proud of herself, nodding as she scored points for her unnamed cause. “You come around, nosy, snooping, peeking in windows.”

“You know something about peeking in windows yourself, don’t you?” It was Minnie’s turn to feel satisfied after landing a blow. Lita enjoyed arguing. Anyone could see that. As Minnie fought back, she observed a hint of admiration building in the other woman’s eyes.

Lita smiled at her slyly. “What do you mean by that exactly?”

“I saw you at the graveyard last night.”

“Did you now?”

“I did,” Minnie said, not backing down.

“Pray tell, what else did you see?” Lita licked her cracked lips. Her hands shook.

“I saw unnatural things,” Minnie said. “I watched them clawing up the ground.”

Lita had no comeback for that.

“Decided to move over here, eh?” It was Agnes, stopping by the table, depositing Lita’s coffee and pie. “Good thing. We’ve got the lunch gang trickling in and could use the booth.”

Minnie was going to say something to the waitress, but Lita had already waved her away.

Four women filed into Lita’s old booth. They looked like office workers, probably from one of the textile mills or warehouses at the docks. Not stylish enough for the Merchant District but more dressed up than people got in Easttown unless there was a special occasion. Lita sneered over her shoulder at them. She turned her attention back to Minnie. “I see more strangers nowadays than I used to. Maybe they’re out-of-towners. Or maybe our paths have never crossed before. But I don’t recognize them. That’s my point. They could be anybody. So could you.”

“I told you who I was,” Minnie said.

“What’s your name?”

“Minnie Klein. I’m a reporter for the Arkham Advertiser. And I assure you, I’m not part of any cover-up or conspiracy, no matter what you may think.” Minnie slipped the knife back onto the table. Lita raised her eyebrows at its appearance.

“That’s what you would say, isn’t it? If you were part of a conspiracy.”

“I suppose it might be,” Minnie answered. She went back to eating, thinking the normalcy of it might calm Lita’s nerves. “Why don’t you try your pie? It looks good.”

“I’m not hungry,” Lita said. “Food turns to ashes in my mouth. That’s what it tastes like.”

Minnie thought of Lita’s husband, the woman was clearly still in mourning. Had she become unhinged by his death? Or perhaps she’d always had peculiar thoughts about the world.

“There’s likely nothing I can do to make you trust me,” Minnie said.

“That’s right.”

“You either will or you won’t,” Minnie continued. “For what it’s worth, I believe there is a conspiracy going on in Arkham. I’ve been working on a series of stories. Some of them concern missing people – living people – or people who were alive when they went missing. The other stories involve business like what I witnessed at the graveyard last night. Dead bodies are being stolen. The way I see it, these two highly unusual trends are connected somehow. I think there are people who know more about it than they’re letting on. Like the cops. Maybe it goes higher than that. Now your husband wasn’t a missing person, but his… passing was also odd.”

“They killed him,” Lita said.

“Who?”

“The cultists,” Lita said. “They keep themselves secret and live hidden among us, blending in with regular folks. But I know they’re here. I’ve seen them with my own two eyes.”

“Did you see them at the graveyard last night?”

Lita stared at her. “Maybe I saw what you say that you saw. That’s my answer.”

Minnie chewed her food. Lita still hadn’t touched hers.

“Officer Billy Cooper–” Minnie started.

“He’s one of them.”

Minnie wiped her mouth with a napkin. “Do you mind if I take a few notes?”

“Do what you like,” Lita said. “Makes no difference to me. I know what I know.”

Minnie moved her plate aside and dug out her notebook and pencil. “You think Billy Cooper is one of these so-called… cultists.” She flipped to a new page and licked her pencil tip.

Lita cupped her hands around the coffee mug for warmth but didn’t drink. “He is.”

Minnie wrote down the name and drew a line under it. “Now when you confronted my colleague, Rex Murphy, you said to him that you thought the police were covering up–”

“He’s another one,” Lita said.

Minnie paused, pencil tip hovering. “What?”

Lita leaned forward and tapped her finger on the notepad. “Write his name down. Rex Murphy. He’s one of them too. A cult member.”

Even if it didn’t mean anything, Minnie didn’t want to put Rex’s name on her list. It felt wrong, like a betrayal. “I’ve known Rex for years. I assure you he’s not a member of any–”

“Yes, he is. One of them.” Lita watched her closely. “Maybe you are too. Your bosses, the – what do call them?”

“Editors?”

“Yeah. The editors are in on it. The cops. All the cops. From the chief on down the line.”

Minnie set her pencil aside. She wasn’t sure how to steer this conversation.

“What’s wrong?” Lita asked her. She picked up the pencil and put it in Minnie’s hand.

More customers were entering. The door to the outside was propped open and groups crowded around the vestibule. A murmur of voices filled the diner with a low, steady hum.

“Look, Lita, if everybody is in on a conspiracy, then it can’t be a conspiracy. I mean, this whole city isn’t full of cult followers. Think about it. It makes no sense.” Minnie squinted at her.

“Write their names down! Write them all down!” Lita pounded her fist on the table, making all the dishes and silverware rattle, as she shouted at the top of her lungs.

The railcar became suddenly silent. Every face turned toward their booth, watching them.

“Lita… hey Lita, take it easy,” Minnie said. “Lower your voice.”

“They’re cooking up something big. Who knows what. I’m going to stop them if no one else will.” Lita was trembling and breathing hard. A vein in her temple bulged like a fat worm.

“We’ll do it together, Lita,” Minnie said. “This is not the place though. Not here.”

“They killed my husband! It’s a cult! All these people are in on it!”

Minnie wasn’t certain if she was talking about the people she had named previously or all the customers at the diner, but both answers were bad. Lita swiveled around in her seat, glaring back at the faces of the stunned lunchtime customers. Minnie saw one man putting his hand slowly into his coat pocket. He’s got a gun, she thought. He’s going to shoot her. Maybe he’ll shoot me too. I’ve got to do something before it’s too late. Minnie reached out and touched Lita’s hand. She jumped as if she’d been shocked, a look of horror spreading across her face.

“Maybe this isn’t the best place to talk,” Minnie said. “In private would be better.”

Lita had turned nearly as red as her hair and was sweating. She started to rise to her feet.

“Please, Lita,” Minnie said. “I’d feel better if we continued our talk at your house. You don’t need more trouble with the cops. Let’s get away before anyone calls them. It isn’t safe.”

The crowd hadn’t decided how it was going to react yet. Everyone paused, toeing the edge of a precipice, waiting for the signal to jump. The tension felt like a physical force pressing on Minnie from all sides, squeezing her. Things could go either way. Lita stood up and brushed her fingers through her hair, she made a point of ignoring the other people in the railcar. She was looking at Minnie, only at her. “You’re right,” she said. “Maybe we should go. It stinks in here.”

Minnie sighed with relief. She opened her purse, took out her wallet, and left money on the table to cover their meals and a tip. Then the two women stayed close together as they walked past the customers in line, and out the door onto the sidewalk. Conversations resumed behind them with a few whispers and insults added to the mix. The crisis had passed… for now. But she needed to get Lita back home. “I’ve got a car,” Minnie said, pointing to the maroon Model T at the curb. 

Lita hesitated, body taut as a wire, still suspicious, eyes darting. Was she going to bolt?

“Or we can walk,” Minnie suggested in a hurry.

“I want to walk.” Lita began the journey without hesitation.

Minnie caught up to her. “It’s a nice day for a walk. That’s a fact nobody will dispute.”

As they strolled side-by-side, Lita continued glancing backward over her shoulder, probably checking to see if they were being followed. When they crossed the street, she seemed to calm down a little. She was a fast walker, but Minnie kept up. The reporter wanted to gather more information, to pick through Lita’s assortment of wild opinions and little-known facts. There was value there, she was convinced of that. After another block, the charged atmosphere lingering from the diner began to dissipate. They’d left it behind like a dirty cloud of exhaust.

It was easier to breathe, and to talk.

“Just think,” Minnie said, trying her best to sound light, “this whole interview would’ve gone a lot easier if you’d opened the door when I knocked earlier. We could’ve avoided that scene back there.” Ahead, a ragtag pair of boys were kicking a deflated football against a fence. A dog was barking in a backyard they couldn’t see, but its sharp yelps cut through the air.

“I couldn’t answer the door, because I was across the street at a friend’s house. I kept an eye on you though, curious about what you were doing,” Lita said. They turned the corner onto Lita’s block. A police car drove past, but Lita paid it no attention.

“But I heard you walking around,” Minnie said. “And I saw you in the upstairs window.”

“Now who’s the one imagining things. I’m telling you I wasn’t home. You made it up.”

Minnie didn’t want to argue, but she was as certain of what she’d witnessed. Thinking back, she realized that she couldn’t positively identify Lita as the person in the window, only that someone was standing there. Who else would’ve been inside Lita’s house? Minnie wasn’t sure she could trust Lita, and she wasn’t convinced that Lita was right about a cult conspiracy operating in Arkham. It was all too unbelievable. But wasn’t that the same objection Minnie’s editors had made about her recent articles? Minnie decided to drop the issue. But she wasn’t letting Lita completely off the hook. “Tell me the truth. I did see you at the graveyard, didn’t I?”

“That was me,” Lita admitted. “The cult was there. Conducting one of their rituals.” Lita swirled her hands in the air, drawing invisible patterns, then flicking them away like bugs.

“What rituals?” Minnie had finally discovered a new angle for her stories, a fresh lead.

Lita didn’t answer but said, “You might think I’m a grief-stricken widow who refuses to face the truth about her husband’s death. That’s wrong. I knew the good and the bad about my partner, and I accepted him. We didn’t have a perfect marriage by a longshot, but we had love.”

Minnie felt that Lita was going to say more, so she didn’t interrupt her.

“Did you know the police accused me of killing him?” Lita said, stopping in front of her house. She seemed to be looking at it for the first time, cocking her head in puzzlement.

“No, I didn’t.” The news stunned Minnie. Frankly, she could see why they suspected her. Here was a woman who seemed capable of violence. Something was driving her, an obsession.

“I would never have hurt John. What the cult did to him was beyond ordinary murder.” Lita headed up the path to her house, keeping an eye on the window with the gauzy curtains.

“Wait.” Minnie followed on her heels. “You can’t tell me that and stop. I need to know.”

“Those creatures you saw in the graveyard are real,” she said. “John knew about them.”

Lita unlocked her front door. The women went inside. Minnie was surprised when she saw Lita bend to pick up her folded note from the floor and put it in her pocket. The house was quiet and dark. All the windows were closed, and the curtains blocked out the sun. The parlor was cluttered, as if no one had straightened it out in weeks. A slice of sunlight from the open doorway revealed dust moats floating in the air like a galaxy of stars, until Lita closed the door.

“Pardon the mess,” Lita said, half-heartedly. She patted the back of a threadbare armchair. “Want a drink? I’ve got brandy in the cupboard. I might even find two clean glasses.”

“It’s a little early for me. Thanks.” 

Minnie dropped her purse on the couch cushions, then slipped out her notebook and pencil. “Lita, please tell me what you know about the creatures in the graveyard and the cultists.”

Lita opened her mouth, but no words came out.

Both of them heard the sound. 

It came from upstairs. A slow, rhythmic noise that was rough and soft at the same time, a kind of determined rubbing. Lita walked to the foot of the staircase, staring up at the second-floor landing, her mouth still hanging open. The sound from upstairs continued – an abrasive rasp. Then it stopped, and a new noise started. Drip, drip, drip. Like a leaky sink tap. The rasp returned as Lita lifted her foot and put it down on the first stair. Rub, drip, rub, drip.

“What is that?” Minnie said in a hushed voice.

Lita shook her head. I don’t know, she mouthed.

“Do you have pets?”

Another headshake.

Lita motioned for her to come closer. Minnie inched over to the stairs, and Lita stooped to whisper in her ear. “When we walked up to the house, I noticed a light on in my bedroom.” Lita’s breath tickled against her ear. “I don’t remember leaving any lights on.” She leaned away.

Minnie watched her going up the steps. “Where are you going?”

“I want to see. It’s my house, and I want to see.” She climbed higher, and Minnie felt she had no choice but to follow her. At the top, they reached a narrow hallway. Lita approached a closed door and put her hand on the Victorian glass doorknob. Minnie wanted to tell her to wait, they should call the police, or at least get a weapon from downstairs, a sharp knife or fireplace poker.

But it was too late for that.

Lita grabbed the knob and twisted, then she threw open the door.

She screamed.

Minnie was right behind her. She had her hand on Lita’s back, and she felt the scream as well as heard it. Her own voice was trapped in her throat. She was too shocked by what she saw.

The enrobed figure from the graveyard stood beside Lita’s bed. The bed itself had been shoved aside. There was a bucket on the floor, and the figure was dipping its hands and forearms into the bucket. They had the sleeves of their robes tied back, and their arms up to the elbows were coated in dark red blood. The room smelled rotten with an ironlike odor. It was the same smell Minnie had caught a whiff of when she’d slid her note under the door, only now it was much stronger. The figure wore the same animal skull over its face. Its long tapering horns reached almost to the ceiling. They’d surprised the figure at its work. It jumped back, splashing blood on the floorboards, spraying droplets on the wallpaper. Minnie couldn’t tell if it was a man or a woman under the costume. She detected a wet sparkle inside the eyeholes of the mask, but she couldn’t see their eyes. It was a terrible vision that froze her spine.

Lita screamed again.

Minnie tried to drag her out of the bedroom, but she wouldn’t budge.

“Lita… Lita…” Minnie pleaded, taking hold of her arm with both hands, and pulling.

Lita pointed at the blood-soaked wall behind her bed. There was a message written there. The figure had been hand-painting something in blood. Huge letters surrounded by cryptic markings and designs whose meaning was awful to behold. The liquid ran red down to the baseboard where it pooled and began to coagulate. The letters spelled one word. Minnie read it.

“FEAST.”

 The sound of Minnie speaking the word aloud propelled the figure into action. It loped across the room and crashed headfirst through the gauzy curtains, shattering the windowpane.

The women ran to the jagged hole and looked out.

They couldn’t spot anyone. “Where did it go?” Lita said. Minnie shook her head. They rushed down the stairs and through the front door. But the figure wasn’t on the lawn or the sidewalk or the street. Minnie and Lita circled the house, searching frantically for any trace of the cultist who had hurled themselves through the window. There was no way anyone dressed in a full-length velvet cloak could’ve run away so quickly. Lita’s house stood in a place with no obstructions and a clear view to the end of the block. How could a person simply vanish? But there was no answer, just a glittering in the grass where the shards of glass had landed in the sun.

We hope you’ve enjoyed Grave Rumors, but now it’s your turn to take over the investigation. The Hungering Abyss: The Arkham Horror RPG Starter Set is available to buy from August 2, 2024.

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