As I type these words, trying to make some kind of sense of the events that have plagued me over the last few weeks, I fear the worst. Dear God, if you are reading this, I can only hope you will believe my testament. You must do so, I beg you, because every word is true, no matter how incredible it may sound. It is coming for me. I feel it in my soul. I pray to heaven that I can finish this letter before it finds me.
It began with my research into Lovecraft’s story “The Colour Out Of Space“. I never should have opened the cover of that accursed book. I thought I was being clever by writing the words down instead of reciting them. Little did I know it was this physical act of inscription that likely sealed my doom. I was performing a spell and I had no idea I was doing it. God, the irony, it’s almost funny when I think about it. But I fear the laughter, once it starts, will never stop.
Wait, that sound! Almost imperceptible, yet I hear it. If you were here with me now, would you also perceive it? Or would you shake your head and tell me it was just my fevered imagination? It is coming now, I am sure of it. The Slump from beyond the stars. I don’t have much time. I have glimpsed it in my dreams, always just out of my line of vision, in the corner of my eye. My curse, my reward for straying too far beyond the realms of the everyday. Why did I have to delve so deeply into that damned book! No, Lord save me, it’s here in the room with me now. Please, not yet, don’t