CCC #105 - Voting Thread

The Abernath Complex

Dr. Richard Stahlman had nothing much else to say about his current patient. The patient was said to be a unique one at best. But what would others say, the fact that this patient had delusions of the highest order? The madman calls it the Abernath Complex, a place in the mind itself, where you can imagine the worst fears possible there is, and that could be fatal to anyone, who comes in contact with or worse... If that wasn't enough, the mad patient keeps calling, "Cthulhu is coming! Dr. Stahlman! CTHULHU IS COMING!" Richard sighed and tried to forget the absolute madness, stemming from the patient's mind as he looked at the current report. As a professional psychologist, he couldn't fathom the idea that the patient would say something like this, every single time. The doctor had made numerous visits to the patient's room, and observed the behavioral patterns, being recorded by the hidden machine, which not even the mad patient knew about it.

"The patient's name..." Dr. Stahlman said and stopped his recorder. He became kinda sweaty, and wanted a drink, but he quit drinking a long time ago, ever since his wife died of brain tumor. He almost killed himself at that moment because he felt the dread and fear that he was going to be alone for the rest of his life, feeling guilty, shameful and miserable. But then he realized that he needed to stay alive and look after his patients. They needed him the most. His friends and coworkers also needed him. So, Richard decided to clear his act, and come out in the open. He resumed, "The patient's name is Peter Davidson. Former Occupation- Software Engineer. Currently divorced. Came from America at the time of his son's death." He paused. He didn't want to say the brutal moment of his life, that he had ever head from Peter's confession. He resumed again. "Patient claims to have seen a creature known as Cth..." He stopped again. "Damn it! How do you pronounce that name?" He tried again, without turning the recorder on. "Ct-hul-hu. Cthulhu. Yes!" He resumed recording, and repeated the previous line. "Patient claims to have seen a creature known as Cthulhu. Possible causes- High anxiety, hyperventilation, drinking problem possible, but not really. There was one time..." He stopped. He was going to say that Peter used to drink a lot in the pub, which the bartender had recounted the facts of a drunken man, who clearly lost his mind. But the question remains clear, why would he come to London? Richard resumed. "He came to London to look for a job?" He even asked Peter that question, several times. Sometimes, Peter said yes, and other times, he said, "No, Dr. Stahlman. I came here to warn you. Yes, you could say that I'm mad. But I'm not entirely insane, if that's what you think." The patient used to keep fidgeting all the time, whenever he talked about his crazy idea, meeting this unknown creature- the so-called Cthulhu. He had resumed speaking then. "As you can see, Dr. Stahlman, the Abernath Complex is such a wonderful place that nobody could understand it. At first, when I have ventured into his unknown space, I was awed by it. Truly awed. You couldn't begin to imagine what wonders I've seen there. I bet everyone will like it. Even you! This creature known as Cthulhu..." He paused, continued fidgeting, and then resumed. "Yes, you could say that I had trouble pronouncing his name first. But then I got it! And guess what, Dr. Stahlman? Your wife was there."

"What?!" The doctor had stood up from his chair, staring into Peter's gloomy eyes. He couldn't believe what he was hearing at that very moment. The mad patient continued. "You're surprised! I can see that. But I'm telling the truth, Dr. Stahlman. Your wife..." He paused, thinking of her name. "Ah yes, Peggy. I remember it now. Peggy Stahlman. Nice name, pretty woman. I sure loved to screw her. She was there, alright. Actually there! She told me you never came to see her by the bedside, until her timely death. You were too busy taking care of your patients. And..."

"Stop!" Richard said, and stopped himself from hitting Peter Davidson, who had sat on the chair across from his desk, the time of the interview session. Now Richard was staring at the empty furniture as if his patient was actually there. But that only happened a couple of hours ago. What a day! He remembered clearly that his old friend of the same profession had hit one of his patients, and as a result, his license got revoked. He didn't want that to happen. Instead, he had calmed down, and said, "That's enough, Peter. How did you..." He paused and decided to think that this madman must have been following him, before he was brought in, raving about "CTHULHU IS COMING! CTHULHU IS COMING!" and who knows maybe... Just maybe...

"Oh come on!" Dr. Stahlman thought. Get a hold of yourself. A woman dying of brain tumor, can't surely sleep with a madman like Peter Davidson, who keeps talking about this... this... Abernath Complex and the... Cthulhu.What a ridiculous idea! He looked back at the mad patient to see if anything else was coming from his confessional mouth.

"I'm sorry to say this, Dr. Stahlman. She told me everything. But I assure you, that we never... slept... together, if that's what you think." He stopped talking then, and mumbled to himself.

Presently, the doctor placed the patient's report back on the desk, and closed his eyes, wanting to sleep. But there was still work to be done. He phoned the Medical Board Committee, and reported to one of his superiors about the latest incident.

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The lightning flashed throughout the sky, and Dr. Stahlman was so tired and weary that he wanted a drink. It was 12 am. The new orderlies just appeared for their night shift. From the window, he noticed several cars going by, knowing the rest of the staff have gone home for the weekend. Here comes the night shifters! He closed his eyes, and kept thinking, whether he should drink at a time like this. He opened his eyes, and thought, Sure, why not? Just a little drink wouldn't hurt. He got up from his chair, and opened the drawer, where he kept his favorite whiskey. At last! How long has it been? 5? 10? A million years, I suppose. Who cares? I just want a drink, dammit! Lord, help me! He opened the bottle, and then poured it into the glass. Swirling the liquid contents, he sipped the drink slowly.

"Not bad!" The doctor said loudly. He must be going mad of hearing this Abernath Complex. And he had to mention it in the report? What would the rest of the Medical Board Committee think about it, now that he had mentioned to his former instructor on the phone? He thought of going back to that room, and witness the patient's behavior. At times, when he came there, Peter usually sleeps, and sometimes mumbled to himself.

I might as well have to see what he's up to. Let's see if this... Eh... Cthulhu is coming! He drank the rest of the whiskey, and decided to venture out into that horrible room.

But what was so horrible about it? Why, Peter of course. What other reason could there be? I must end this madness, the doctor thought. I must end it. Right. Now. Not to say that I'm going to strangle him to death just he like did to his... He stopped. My God, what's happening to me? He shook his head, and kept sweating all over. It's that bloody drink! Yes. I shouldn't have drank it. But I had to... Oh Peggy, I'm sorry. I should've been there. The doctor wasn't aware that he dozed off into the unknown space, where he can see all the strangest symbols that mankind has never encountered before, and being printed on the walls, made it look artistic in a way, that nobody could even understand its true meaning. But didn't Peter mentioned the wall symbols before? How strange they looked... A unique design of utmost nature. How fascinating! But no. Peter didn't talk about it. Why? I must ask him, what these symbols meant and why he didn't tell me about them. He could hear distant voices coming from somewhere, beyond the realms of darkness. Or was it space? That voice...

"Richie?" It was Peggy's voice. She stood there completely naked, but entirely different. Her skin was so white, that some strange light kept shining upon her. She looked like an angel. And there were scales around her body, as if she came back in the body of a fish. "Oh, Richie. I've been waiting so long to see you."

"No... You're dead." The doctor tried to blink, but he couldn't. Her grotesque beauty mesmerized him in ways that men couldn't understand the difference between inner beauty and the outside one. But Peggy was much more different than that. This wasn't Peggy. It couldn't be.

"No, You're not Peggy. Leave me alone. The real Peggy is dead." He looked around the walls, the symbols and the darkness beyond. "Where are we?"

"We're in the Abernath Complex." The doctor stared at her, as if this was his first visit to a woman, whom he loved so many years ago. Oh Peggy, I've missed you so much. He came closer to her and stopped.

"The Abernath Complex?" The doctor repeated moments earlier of what his so-called wife, who seemingly came back from the dead, had mentioned. "That can't be! I'm in a dream. A madman's dream!"

"It's no dream, Richie. Look around you. Peter and I have seen them. And so do you."

"No..." He looked around the unknown space again. "No, it's a dream. And you're not Peggy!"

Peggy didn't say anything to that. She just stared at the doctor.

"Look here," Richard said. "I'm going to Peter's room. Okay? And I'm..."

"You're in Peter's room." The creature said, stopping him. The doctor stared at her, completely bewildered. After a moment of silence, the doctor said, "What do you mean? I'm already here?"

"Yes, you are. Look!"

The doctor turned around and saw Peter lying naked on the ground, with his legs crossed. It looked like some pentagram of some kind. Like the walls, these strange symbols were also imprinted. The madman was mumbling some chants of ancient prayer. He then opened his eyes, and saw the doctor.

"Hello, Dr. Stahlman. It's good to see you. Welcome to the Abernath Complex!"

"What's the meaning of this, Peter?" Richard said. He was quite fascinated by all those pretty symbols, glowing right in front of him. Pink glow, I should say. And it felt powerful that nobody could think of doing such a forbidden thing. Not even the madman himself.

"I'm uttering a prayer to the Great God Cthulhu. As you can see here, the creature lives beyond space and time. It can give you wonders of the imagination. It can give you everything. It can also bring your loved ones back." Peter looked at the naked creature. The doctor also looked at her, and said, "But.. She's not my wife."

Peter sighed and said, "In a way, she's not. Yes. But I've prayed to Cthulhu to bring her back. But not the way, I've imagined. I suppose the Great God Cthulhu couldn't bring the whole humanness to the entire equation of one's existence. Who are we to blame the god? At least he brought your wife back! You should be happy, Dr. Stahlman."

Richard didn't know what to say all this strangeness of the entire situation. He remembered the day, when Peter confessed his crime to the authorities. That he sacrificed his own son in the name of Cthulhu. It goes beyond human reasoning, no doubt about it. This madman has to be stopped before someone else gets hurt.

"It's time to make another sacrifice, Dr. Stahlman. And you will help me choose."

"No!" The doctor said. "I will not do it!" He knew it all along that he should have killed him a long time ago, even if it costs his license that he had worked hard for. The thought of sacrificing another innocent life was too unbearable for him. Dr. Richard Stahlman couldn't take it anymore. He stepped toward the pentagram, and strangled the madman.

The creature didn't do anything to stop the doctor. She knew what was going to happen next. She stepped back, and then disappeared into darkness.

As for the doctor, Richard kept strangling the madman until his very last breath.

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"Dr. Stahlman? DR. STAHLMAN! WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?!"

The doctor saw himself still gripping the madman's throat, and then let him go. One of the orderlies grabbed the doctor immediately, and the other orderly went to get the security.

The third orderly just came in, and saw the incident. He was shocked beyond belief. Coming closer to the patient, the third orderly checked his pulse.

Jesus Christ! He's dead. The doctor has killed him. He looked at Richard, confused and scared.

"I had to kill him!" Richard said, trying to break free of the orderly. "He forced me to choose, and sacrifice someone in the name of Cthulhu. I'm telling you! CTHULHU IS COMING!"

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"CTHULHU IS COMING!" Dr. Riles Stevenson stopped the recorder, and stared at Richard Stahlman. The former doctor kept fidgeting, and said, "Dr. Stevenson, the Abernath Complex is such a wonderful place. You should see it. But I'm afraid..." He stopped.

"Afraid of what, Richie?" Dr. Stevenson couldn't believe his eyes, that his own friend had become a madman just like the late Peter Davidson. He still couldn't believe it.

"I'm afraid that you will be next, Dr. Stevenson. But you'll have to see it for yourself. This Abernath Complex... You'll understand it, once you get there."

Dr. Stevenson sighed and said, "Richie... I hate to say this. But... there is no Abernath Complex and this... Eh... Cth... Cthu..."

"It's Cthulhu, Dr. Stevenson. I know it's hard at first. But you'll get it."

"Right..." Riles shook his head, and said, "It all exists in your mind, Richie. Nothing more."

"But it does. You just have to get there. And you will!"

"Alright." Riles said, feeling tired already. "What will happen once I get there?" He couldn't believe his own words. But he just have to get along with it, no matter how crazy as it sounds.

"A sacrifice for the greater good." The former doctor said. "Once that sacrifice is done, the gateway will open."

"Gateway?" Riles said, confused. "To what?"

"The Abernath Complex, of course," the former doctor said. "I swear on my grave that it will open, once the sacrifice is made. I'll have to do it, but you have to choose."

Oh my god! Riles thought. He's mad! He looked at the former doctor for a while, and then said, "This is madness, Richie. I don't believe you."

"Oh, you will believe me, Dr. Stevenson. In time... You will have to choose someone to be sacrificed because Cthulhu is waiting..." And that was the end of the interview session. The former doctor was then taken to his cell, which left Stevenson wondering what to do with him.

The Abernath Complex. Cthulhu... What does it all mean? Wild thoughts went swirling around Stevenson's head. Of course, he didn't believe any word of it. But it was pure madness, indeed. As mad as it sounds, he wanted to sleep. But he couldn't. The current session did scare him the most out of all the other patients, which he had interviewed them in the past.

I need a drink, he thought. Yes, that would be a good idea. Surely, he will do it, once he gets home. It's better that way. He was getting things ready, when he heard distant voices coming from somewhere, and that he found himself in the unknown space of darkness. He hasn't even left his office yet!

Dr. Riles Stevenson tried to breathe and told himself, "It's only a dream. Nothing more." But he was still sweating. The voices kept growing louder and louder as Riles walked somewhere on the floor. He stopped, and there he saw Richard's naked form lying on the ground, imprinted with strange symbols that he had never seen before. The former doctor was currently chanting.

"Richie?" Riles said, coming closer to the former doctor. "Is that you?" Somewhere in the background, the female creature was watching the events unfold itself. The former doctor stopped chanting, when he heard his old friend's words. Opening his eyes, he said, "Hello, Dr. Stevenson. It's good to see you. Welcome to the Abernath Complex!"

THE END

We Serve The Beast

11th January 1946, Operation Crossroads planning

Lewis Theobald exhaled and took up the shuffleboard cue. Around the table the scientists and military men were watching. He moved the puck with the radiation symbol on it to 47°9'S 126°43'W and stopped.

“The newly emerged island of R’lyeh,” Lewis said to the group. “Possibly a volcanic spire, more exploration would need to be done. It has no native life on it as it’s only about twenty years old.”

“Never heard of it,” Deputy Task Force Commander for Aviation General William E. Kepner stated from the far end of the table. “I think Bikini Atoll is better.”

“Only because its your suggestion.”

The room went silent at the retort. Kepner squirmed and glared back at the lowly Manhattan Project scientist. “what did you say?”

“You heard me, you’re just wanting to cause a scene and use your rank to bully me into submission,” Lewis said calmly. “My suggestion is we use the R’lyeh site. We don’t have to move any natives. It’s miles from anywhere in the middle of the ocean. And if something goes wrong, its miles from anywhere in the middle of the ocean.”

“You’re foreseeing a problem, Theobald?” Lieutenant General Leslie Richard Groves Jr, Head of the Manhattan Project, scratched his moustache.

“Sir, we are testing a nuclear device, there a plenty of variables that could become problems.”

“Good point,” Groves stood up. “Right, we put it to a vote. Those in favour of Bikini Atoll move to Kepner’s end of the table; those who like…what was your name again son?”

“Lewis Theobald, sir.”

“Move to the other end. Go!”

Several army and navy officers moved to Kepner’s end, whilst scientists moved to Theobald’s side. The mood in the room changed when Groves moved towards Kepner’s end.

“You’ll see that Bikini is the best…”

“I wasn’t joining your side, Bill, I was just coming to see what the layout looked like from this end.” Groves knelt down getting eye level with the map. “There are people on Bikini?”

“Yes sir, about two hundred including the royal family.”

Groves stood up. “And we’re relocating them? Where?”

“To Ruck-oh-gee-eye, island across the…”

“Sir, sorry to interrupt but General Kepner has left out some pertinent details,” Theobald said. “It’s Rongerik, eleven miles east of Bikini and possibly within the blast and fallout zone of the test. It has inadequate water and food supply and due to deep-rooted traditional beliefs, the natives believe the island is haunted by the Demon Girls of Ujae.”

Groves sternly stared at Theobald for daring to speak up but then turned and glowered at Kepner. “This true?”

“I don’t know sir,” Kepner stammered.

“What’s wrong with your island?” Groves pointed at the radiation puck.

“It’s isolated, sir, it’s also small. It’s equidistant between New Zealand and Argentina and closer to Antarctica. The remoteness will add to costs. But it’s a safer choice as there is nothing around.”

Groves walked around the table and stood next to Theobald and shook his hand. “Settled. R’lyeh it is.”

"C' ahnyth uh'enyth" Theobald said. Groves looked at him strangely.

"Bless you?"

19th June 1946, R’lyeh test site

Admiral Harry D. Felt stood on the bridge of the USS Cassandra as it bobbed in the cold waters of the remote Southern Ocean. It was nothing but frigid blue sea for thousands of miles topped with grey cloudy skies. Sticking out of the water was this huge grotesque thing that was island mixed with temple.

“I was under the impression this place was uninhabited?” Felt asked Captain Edward Softly who stood beside him.

"Ph'nglui mglw'nafh Cthulhu R'lyeh wgah'nagl fhtagn" Softly muttered his face beaming at the sight of the ancient temple.

Felt looked at his 2IC. “What are you blathering about?”

“In his house at R'lyeh, dead Cthulhu waits dreaming.” Softly slammed a fist into Felt’s throat knocking him to the ground. “C' ahnyth uh'enyth! It is time to wake Cthulhu!”

1st July 1946, R’lyeh site

Temporary Admiral Edward Softly looked through binoculars as Operation Crossroads began. A Stratofortress dropped the 23-kiloton device some five hundred feet about the target.

“Nafl'fhtagn Cthulhu!” Softly chanted as the cloud of nuclear smoke rose into the air. The blast was impressive but paled to what happened next. The spire cracked and fell into the ocean as it felt like the entire earth shuddered. Gaseous bubbles of ancient chemical rose from the depth turning the surface of the water into a witch’s brew. A sound akin to breaking metal echoed from below. The sky darkened.

An awful squid-head with writhing feelers emerged from the sea. Softly’s eyes bled in delight before he took his service revolver and blew his brain out. Larger and larger grew this monolithic thing; a sticky spawn of the stars with flabby claws and terrible bat-like wings that covered the sky. Sailors behaved like terrified children; some shooting at the mountain sized beast others jumping into the water to flee whilst others cowered in fear filling their pants with feculence.

CTHULU HAD RISEN!

Notes:

Lewis Theobald and Edward Softly are aliases used by H.P Lovecraft.

Deputy Task Force Commander for Aviation General William E. Kepner, Admiral Harry D. Felt, and Lieutenant General Leslie Richard Groves Jr are real people but fictionalised.

The R'lyeh speak was gotten from an English to R'lyehian translator on Google. And "C' ahnyth uh'enyth" supposedly means we Serve The Beast in their language.

Nuclear blast pic from Wikipedia article of Operation Crossroads

Nyarlathotep

The cockroach squelched around in my vomit, the only other living animal in this vile room. I had already retched before I even arrived at the front gate of this house, again when I opened the front door and a third time in this room of depravity. The smell is all-pervasive. I'm not sure if I can do this. I've done it with ease many times before but this, this is far worse, hundreds of times more disgusting and horrifying than any murder scene I have attended. I am a reporter and this is the first time I have ever been on the scene before anyone else. I can't let an opportunity like this slip through my fingers. I can't give up but for the fourth time I am afraid I must throw up.

I lift my weary head from my bile. My stomach is completely empty of its contents. I see the husks of dried rats long since dead, their skin still wrapped around their skeletons. I can't bring myself to look up any higher but I am aware of a large mass that the rats are surrounding, hundreds of rat corpses baring dry flapping flaking skin, worn away in places, leaving holes so that I can see their dehydrated organs and bones. I make sure to breathe through my nose, somehow I think my nose will have a filtering effect on the diabolical air as opposed to breathing it straight into my mouth.

I look down again, I'm gathering my energy. I feel the floor beneath my palms. It is a solid crust, not floorboards like I expected but a kind of sandstone feel, uneven and unlevel, rough and lumpy. I look down to inspect it, I see bits of seed and corn in it. I soon realise that the entire floor is coated with the dried faeces of God knows who or what. I gag yet again, soon I will be empty of bile.

I get to my feet and turn to try the light switch but it doesn't work. I push the door open as wide as I can and a beam of light spills in from the window in the other room. I turn to get a look at the light bulb but there is no light bulb, instead there are the remains of a young child who was seemingly hung by the cord that previously bore the light. Again the remains of the child were dehydrated like the rats so that the body was somewhat mummified. The terror could still be seen in the child's preserved facial skin. I began to imagine the twisted, black hearted monster who did this terrible thing. I saw him in my mind. I was going to imagine all the punishments I would inflict on him but "Imagination" had other ideas. I imagined that the Scum who had done this was me. Like I was retracing his steps. I had no evil in me, I knew that I was doing a good thing, a greater thing, a thing that held meaning beyond that which any average human had the privilege of contributing toward... Shake it off, I won't sympathise with this Filth, I resume being angry at the other person, that evil Bastard.

Looking down below the hanging child I engage with the large mass in the centre of the room. A lattice, a heavy duty trellis splayed out like a hand of cards stands there. A mound of bones surround it, piled up to over half its height. I can see where the bones of previous hanging children have dropped from the light cord and collected into their own mound over time. Along the top of the trellis are hung more children strung up by the hands and feet, enough to fill it from one end to the other. Their faces were filled with pain and horror. It occurred to me that these children must have died in the midst of these agony and horror filled climaxes. Littered through the remaining gaps in the trellis were dried bat corpses. They had been feeding on the children's soft body parts.

The thought of the suffering is too much for me. I look away and stare at the one beam of light in this darkest of rooms. I stare into the light and for a moment I find something wholesome and even glorious in it, but then I notice the dust in that beam of light, the room is thick with dust. Compared to a normal dusty room there is ten times the amount. My nose can feel it going in as I breathe. I realise that I have been swallowing this dust as it congeals in the back of my nasal passage. I make a pathetic attempt to shield my nose with my hand but then I remember that my hands have been rubbing on the dried excrement of rats, children and bats. I pull my had away but as I do, I think about all the dust particles I have disturbed from the floor, all the miniscule flakes of defecation that I have put on my face as I wiped the puke from my mouth. I am disgusted as I realise that I am breathing shit. I want to throw up again but I can't. I want to get this filth out of my body. I get frustrated, I'm angry that this rancid smell is going into my lungs and the air is becoming part of my blood. I'm annoyed that this faecal dust is going into my stomach where I will digest it. The thought that some of it may become a part of me fills me with outrage. If I don't win a Pulitzer for this story, I won't be the only one eating shit.

I try to pull myself together, I try to get a look at the main display between the hanging child and the trellis. It is an adult sized figure but it is not human looking. I begin to twitch, my eye strays to where the beam of light hits the flaking skin hole in the child behind, I can see the child's dried and shrivelled stomach through the hole, I see where bats have gnawed on the child's underarms and I start thinking about the infections and the disgusting gangrenous rotting flesh. I see the dust in the light as it rests on the child and then I am mortified as I realise I am breathing in the dried microscopic peelings of all those infectious, gangrenous wounds. I am breathing in this whole evil scene and swallowing it into my body. If I stay too long I will get sick. If I stay too long it may change me somehow. Yes, there is an evil that I can't see and it is trying to poison me, It is trying to make me sick. Germs. I can feel them crawling over my hands and mouth. I begin to spit so i can stop them getting into my mouth. They want to kill me. I start brushing them off of me frantically. If i brush with enough speed i can get those germs off of me. I dance and whirl as i brush myself off. I dance right under the hanging child where i bump solidly into a wall of scent. By scent I mean stench and by stench I mean an alien, unearthly miasma, Something so beyond what you can imagine or I can describe. It goes far beyond ideas of bad smell and into ideas of evil smell, the smell of wickedness. I drop to the floor. I'm in a daze. I think i will just rest...

...I'm hacking the head off of a crocodile, the Mi-Go surround me. They love what I am doing. There are crying children hanging around me, some of them screaming in agony as the bats chew on them. I know I am in the room but at the same time I am somewhere else where being inside or outside doesn't matter. The Mi-Go are outside the room, all around it, but I can see them and they can see me. The Mi-Go are strange human sized beings, pinkish, fungus-like and crustacean looking. They have oval shaped heads that are built up in layers of progressively smaller ovals, like pyramids are built and they are covered in antennae. They are about five feet long, and their bodies bear multiple pairs of limbs and a pair of membranous bat-like wings. I feel elation at their approval, they are chanting to encourage me...

..."mnahn' uaaahnythor

nyarlathotep ahlloigazath ymg'

mnahn' uaaahnythor

nyarlathotep ahlloigazath ymg'

mnahn' uaaahnythor

nyarlathotep ahlloigazath ymg'"

(..."Worthless Puppet

Nyarlathotep Mocks You.

Worthless Puppet

Nyarlathotep Mocks You.

Worthless Puppet

Nyarlathotep Mocks You.")

I wake from my rest. My dream has left me feeling happy and I want to be close to the Mi-Go. I use my nose. I move around the room until the smell smacks me in the face again. I snuffle all around it and sniff out its dimensions. I can tell where it is and i can tell where it isn't. I can smell another one across the room. I am tuning in to this new sensation. As always the smelling wasn't like the smelling we usually understand. The olfactory senses are attacked in a sideways manner. The smell is to be sensed from inside the nose and going out, as though it first oozed out from the taste-buds.

The odors begin to take form in my mind. I can see some Mi-Go outside the room and three of them inside. I feel comforted.

I finally get a look at the strange figure in the center of it all. It is a human body with goat legs and the head of a large crocodile. I look inside the crocodile's mouth, there is a human head inside and it's face looks very happy. Its eyes are closed peacefully and there is a smile in its mouth skin.

The Mi-Go are exiting the room. There is a smell approaching and it is more potent than the Mi-Go. I sit back on the bones, toppling the crocodile-goat-man figure and sending clouds of dust up around me. I have a revelation in that moment that such a dry dehydrated room should not have given off much smell at all and that it was the Mi-Go all along who had made me sick to my stomach. Though I had become accustomed to the smell of the Mi-Go I still feared what I was about to encounter. Would it come here to my room? What would its effulgence do to me? Will I survive it? W llll nyarlathotep....

...My lower legs lay next to a goat that is dying. I have cut them off and sewn the goat's legs on to my stumps. It feels wonderful. There is a child tied to the goat, crying for its mother. I think the child doesn't want its mother to miss the glory of the coming moment. I finish cutting off the crocodile's head. The Mi-Go stop chanting and move back to make room for something. In the distance, underground I can see the Yogshugg Uh'enythh arrive from nowhere. They are beasts from the moon and they have brought their equipment. They have some sort of ray gun looking thing and they are pointing it diagonally away from me back through the earth and I know it is pointed at me. I am very pleased. Then they appear in close proximity to my room with a large cauldron that they hang on nothing, it sits sideways in the ether.

Chanting begins again...

... "Ah'legeth uaaahnythor

uaaah ahlloigazath llll nyarlathotep

Ah'legeth uaaahnythor

uaaah ahlloigazath llll nyarlathotep

Ah'legeth uaaahnythor

uaaah ahlloigazath llll nyarlathotep"

("Foolish Puppet

Execute the Mockery for Nyarlathotep

Foolish Puppet

Execute the Mockery for Nyarlathotep

Foolish Puppet

Execute the Mockery for Nyarlathotep")

I untied the child from the goat and held it aloft by the hair as it flailed pointlessly. A force lifted me up off the ground to the ceiling where I wrapped the light cord around the struggling child's neck and let it hang. The force lowered me to my pedestal where I proudly donned my crocodile head. I was choking on its brains and suffocating for lack of breath. It was wonderful. I heard the rumble of the ray gun and I began to feel thirsty. I could hear the groans of the children. In the distance I saw a green liquid pouring upward into the air where it floated in a round blob with one flat side. Closer to me I saw a Yogshugg Uh'enythh stirring the sideways cauldron with its snout. A mass of pink tentacles adorned the end of it's snout which I imagined were working away in the cauldron like eggbeaters. I could see the liquid in the air far away being agitated as more and more was being added to it. I could feel my lips drying and cracking and the corners of my eyes splitting. The children had gone silent and I felt one last glow of pleasure in my heart before it was all over.

Again I wake. Immediately I begin to smell the Yogshugg Uh'enythh in the room. If I move I am sure that I will smell too much and pass out agai L' nyarlathotep, ainyth'drn, ahnythor nilgh'ri hnahh ah mgep'ai....

...I watch on. I think I am a Mi-Go this time. There is a huge diagonally upside-down throne hanging over the house and there is a cup which contains the liquefied mockery, the insanity, horror and suffering of earthly fools. Nyarlathotep will soon be passing through and we have prepared this for him. I am aware that Nyarlathotep is mighty and knows all things and that he is the Son and Messenger from the Dreamer of all things.

We begin to chant our praise as Nyarlathotep approaches with throngs of beasts surrounding him.

Over and over we chant...

... L' nyarlathotep, mighty ainyth'drn, ahnythor nilgh'ri hnahh ah mgep'ai. Ng h' ahor llll epgoka semblance ot shuggoth, waxen n'ghft'drn ng robes cahf ah'n'ghft, ng nog mgyogor hup shuggog ot yeeogngm yogfm'logg l' ahlloigazath

("To Nyarlathotep, Mighty Messenger, must all things be told. And he shall put on the semblance of man, the waxen mask and the robes that hide, and come down from the world of Seven Suns to mock.")

He comes by. He is huge, larger than a skyscraper. He walks like a man through the aisle we have prepared for him and then he passes by. Nyarlathotep goes to Cthulhu and does not thirst.

I'm awake again. I feel normal now. The room doesn't smell anymore and though it is a grizzly scene, it has lost its evil hold on me. I open the window and let some more light in, then I pull out my notebook and begin to describe what I see and the experiences I had. I shut the room up and lock the house as I leave. Its fifteen miles back to the town where I am staying. I get a map out of the glove-box of my car and carefully plot my course to the nearest kindergarten.