Cyrus: A Tetromet Short
In 1983, the city of New Orleans, Louisiana, converted a federally funded hospital into the Mental Hospital for Adolescents. The hospital abruptly shut down in 2009. Few stories have circulated about the closure. Only those who worked there know what really went on behind the walls.
I was fortunate enough to sit down with a lady who wishes to be known as Hillary Engquist, wife and mother of three. She worked for the hospital from 2002-2009. She relayed to me her experiences while on staff there as a nurse. If you are uncomfortable with trekking into the darkest depths of the human psyche, and if upending the stones under which evil forces lurk gives you nightmares, then you should forgo this story and pick something more light-hearted.
Sincerely,
Ezekiel Kincaid
I placed the recorder on the bed and pushed the record button. “Mrs. Engquist, thank you for taking the time to meet with me today, but why here?”
The strike of her match echoed through the hollow room, and its gentle flame eased the dimness. She brought it to her cigarette and inhaled, crossing her legs in the metal folding chair.
“Because this was his room, Mr. Kincaid.”
“Please, call me Zeke. By ‘him’, you mean Cyrus Benson?”
She exhaled and nodded, “Craziest bastard I ever laid eyes on.”
I surveyed the room and noticed peeling white paint, drywall on the floor from the crumbling ceiling, beer cans in the corner, and dingy white curtains hanging on the windows. The room smelled of piss and mildew.
“Tell me about him,” I said, leaning back in my own folding chair.
“I’ll never forget the day they brought him in. You know how people say when you’re caught in a surreal moment, it seems as though time stands still? That’s what happened the first day I met Cyrus. It was his eyes. Crystal baby blues, clear as the Pacific. Calm and serine on the outside, but there seemed to be a storm brewing behind his cold demeanor.”
She took another drag and exhaled, “Cyrus Benson. Seventeen years old from Houma, Louisiana. That little son of a bitch turned the town upside down.” She flicked ashes on the floor. “It’s a quiet little place. Nothing much out of the ordinary goes on there. That’s why when it was discovered what Cyrus did, it sent shockwaves through the entire community. You know how it goes - small town, heinous crime, community stunned.”
I nodded. “What’d he do?”
“Well, with most like him, it starts with mutilating animals. But that ain’t the most disturbing part - not by far.” Hillary shifted in her seat and crossed her legs, then paused and gave me an unsure look.
“What?” I asked, wiping a bead of sweat from my brow.
“You sure you want me to go on?” Hillary took another drag.
“I am.”
Hillary exhaled, “Beau Henson started noticing some of his baby goats were disappearing. When the cops caught Cyrus, they found-” Her voice trailed off and she stared at the wall behind me, her eyes glazing over. She blinked a few times and shifted her eyes back to me.
“Awe hell I don’t even know what to call it. They found body parts from different animals stitched together. The bodies were those of cats. He had cut their heads off and stitched the heads of the kids on them. He had also cut the cats’ tails off. Attached where the tails should be were cottonmouths. The cops also found something else.” Hillary smirked.
Hillary seemed to be enjoying this retelling of Hell’s Vomit.
Yeah, Hell’s Vomit. That’s what I called it when such an evil as this found its way to the surface of the earth.
“What?”
She tapped her cigarette again, dropping ashes on the floor. “Cyrus had him a little fishing spot on one of the tributaries. It was right there in the woods, near the Moffet Road side of town. Cyrus invited his two best friends, John Blanchard and Carter LeBlanc, and his girlfriend, Madeline Harper, to go fishing with him one Saturday morning in May,”
My attention shifted to a horsefly buzzing at the window. Hillary noticed it as well. As her eyes darted to the bug, I glanced at the lipstick stains on her cigarette. I thought I saw a hint of black in the red prints. My eyes narrowed.
Hillary saw my vision fixed on her cigarette butt, then covered it with her fingers. “When they got to the fishing spot with Cyrus, it didn’t take them long to figure out there wasn’t going to be any fish caught that day. Cyrus hung the little demented animals he had sewed together from a cypress tree near the bank. Laying by the trunk was the bodies of three male goats.”
Hillary took a drag from her cigarette, exhaled, then started to swing her crossed leg back and forth.
I picked up on her nervous tick, “Look, Mrs. Engquist if you need to take a minute -”
She uncrossed her legs and leaned forward. “While his friends were all gawking at the abominations, Cyrus attacked them with a machete.”
I reached in my coat pocket and pulled out my flask. I took a few swings. “Go on. How brutal was it?”
“He went after John first. Swung so hard at his neck the blade sunk through and gashed the bone. Carter and Madeline heard the sound of the blade and John’s scream. And Carter?” Hillary took another drag, “Carter. The boy was so scared he just stood there and watched the blade sink into his skull. And Madeline? She tried to run but she didn’t make it far.”
I took another hit from my flask, then screwed the top back on and returned it to my pocket. I read the reports and I knew she wasn’t telling me everything. “Anything else happen with those bodies?” I stared hard into her eyes.
Hillary met my gaze. I could see her eyes inspecting mine, wondering just how much I knew.
“Okay, Mr. Kincaid. Fine.” She shifted in her seat. “Remember the baby goats and cats I told you about? How he rearranged their heads?”
I nodded.
“Well, he didn’t stop there. He found some male goats.” She paused, then huffed, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “He cut the heads off his friends and the three male goats. He then took the goat heads and attached them to his friends. He stripped them naked and placed them on the ground, sitting up, with their backs leaning against one another. Carved in their chest was some sort of symbol. I can’t describe it, so I’ll draw it for you.”
My eyes widened.
Those details weren’t in the report. All I knew was the bodies had been mutilated and left to rot.
Mrs. Engquist stood up and walked to another bed in the corner of the room. She kneeled on it and placed a hand on the back wall. With her other hand, she reached in her purse and pulled out a tube of lipstick. She then drew a symbol on the wall. It was a circle with lines running in and out of it in odd shapes. I had never seen anything like it.
She glanced over her shoulder at me. “He must have carved this symbol into his own body in twenty different places as well.” She hopped off the bed and sat back down in the chair.
My eyes didn’t leave the symbol. “What’s it mean?”
“The Tetromet. Ever heard of it?”
I slammed my fist on my knees, huffed, and shook my head. “We’re done.” I went to retrieve my recorder from the bed. “Yeah I’ve heard of it. It’s all an urban legend tale, I can’t believe you drug me out here for this garbage.”
“What’s the matter Zeke? Don’t believe in the supernatural?”
“Of course I do. I was a pastor for twenty years. But this isn’t supernatural. It’s lies.”
She jumped up and stepped between me and the bed, placing her hands on my shoulders. “Please. Mr. Kincaid. Here me out. I promise it’s true. By the end, you’ll believe.”
I stared deep into her eyes. She didn’t have the look of a liar. A loon, maybe, but not a liar. I eased over to my chair and left the recorder going.
“Thank you,” she said, her stoic glare following me until I sat back down.
“Go on. Why don’t you tell us what a Tetromet is.”
She returned to her chair and cleared her throat, “The Tetroment used to be the cherub who guarded the tree of life in the Garden of Eden, but he rebelled. Now, in his twisted state, his authority is used to turn the souls of the deceased into demons. His head is supposed to be a black goat skull. His body that of a feline, and a viper for a tail. Would you like me to go on?”
“No. Get to the point,” I said, my voice laced with irritation. “Tell me about what happened the night before the hospital was shut down.”
“Very well,” Hillary flicked her cigarette butt on the ground. “In our group sessions, Cyrus wouldn’t shut up about the Tetromet. He claimed the Tetromet would come and rescue him. He told the other patients in the group if they didn’t serve Tetromet, he would devour their souls and introduce them to wonderful suffering.”
“What type of impact did that have on the patients?”
“They started seeing things. Davey, who had issues with sadomasochist fantasies, kept saying the Tetromet was coming in his room at night and molesting him. Jill claimed to see the creature walking the halls. Jules, who was abused by his father, kept saying his daddy would come in his room after lights out, stark naked, wearing nothing but a black goat skull. Molly, a delusional schizophrenic, hollered at night for all the cats to stop meowing. She also said she couldn’t sleep in her bed because of all the snakes.”
I rolled my eyes.
Hillary paused, smirking at my reaction.
“The kids began to buy into Cyrus’ message. When they did, the hallucinations stopped. In group, they would all just stare at Cyrus, like they were waiting for something. Then the last night-”
“What?”
Her eyes fell back on me. “The last night. In group session. Cyrus stood up and said, ‘It’s time.’ The others got up and faced me. Then…their skin…oh God.” She swallowed.
I leaned in, “What about their skin?”
Hilary crossed her legs again and did her nervous swing with one of them. She picked her purse up off the floor and rummaged around for her pack of cigarettes. She fumbled one out and lit up. As she breathed out, she said, “It started to melt off and slosh to the floor. Like bad claymation from an old horror flick.”
I leaned back in my chair and folded my hands, “So, they all died?”
An awkward cackle exploded from her lips. “I wish.” Hillary’s eyes narrowed and a solemn smirk etched across her face.
I didn’t crack a smile. Instead, I gave her a death stare. “I’m not amused, Mrs Engquist, and I don’t have time for games. Get on with it.”
Her smirk morphed into a sly smile, “Very well.” She took another drag and exhaled the smoke towards me. As the vapor dissipated and her face came into view, she said, “They were demons underneath. Their bodies… a charcoal color, their skin, thick and leathery. They had no eyes. Out of the sockets grew horns. They curved around their heads and sat above bat-like ears. And their teeth. Rows of jagged teeth, like glass. Opaque in appearance. It looked like they were just crammed in their mouths.”
I ignored her theatrics. This entire story was beginning to sound like one colossal run around. “What about Cyrus?”
Hillary stood up and paced around the beds. “I don’t know. I ran out of the room.”
My eyes followed her, “Where’d you go?”
“Cyrus’ room.” Hilary started to walk behind me
I craned my neck to look at her, “What was in there?”
She paused. I tilted my head further and saw her staring out the window, her back facing me.
“The Tetromet.” she said.
Hillary eased closer to the window. She remained quiet for a few moments, so I stood up and moved within a few feet from her.
“Anything else?” I asked, staring at the back of her head.
“Yes…” Her voice grated low, deep, and guttural.
In a slow, almost mindless motion, Hillary turned to face me. As she did, the skin on her face melted off as if someone had thrown acid on her.
I cursed, then stumbled back, tripping over my chair. My heartbeat escalated. My palms grew clammy and tunnel vision set in. My sense of smell became more sensitive to the ammonia scent of the old urine. My stomach knotted and I felt nauseated.
Before me stood a demon, like the one she had described. It crouched down, and with white phlegm dripping from its teeth, it made a move at me.
I produced my Glock from my coat and fired off three rounds into its head. Then, the oddest thing happened. The creature squealed, as white blood gushed from the wounds. It fell into a fetal position and liquefied into a pile of white slime. The slime bubbled, then evaporated.
I leaped to my feet, grabbed my recorder from the bed, and ran out the room.
This, my readers, was just the beginning of my experience with the Tetromet.
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