This avenue that leads from his burial I walk,
The trees watching over the dead,
Their leaves as white as the gravestones,
All I now see is my pistol raised at his head.
I am not a murderer, I am not a monster,
I am only a true friend.
As his mind wrestled in Arkham Asylum,
He begged me to bring him death.
A mansion inherited from his Uncle,
His journal a tale of madness and mayhem.
Creatures, rituals and astrological alignments,
A monolith rose in the dark lake.
My friend he swam out to the monolith,
The stars reflection broken in his wake.
My friend he touched the monolith,
Dragged under he suddenly became.
For months no body ever was raised,
The lake held the monolith in its depths,
When I offered my life to find my friend.
The monolith rose once again.
That night I dreamed of the ‘Deep Ones’,
A race of fish like men.
They answered the offering of my life,
They delivered the ‘Book of the Dead’.
The book I found in the hallway,
In the morning after I wake.
Surrounded by stagnant water,
And weeds that belong in the depths.
That evening I read from the book,
The blood from my wrists I gave.
A monstrous storm grew overhead,
Waves crashed upon the lake.
Unable to move from weakness,
through the window I saw the lake.
Upon the monolith sat a creature,
Its bulging eyes caught my gaze.
With thunder, the doors slammed open,
There stood before me my friend.
His skin pale and damp,
His eyes spoke of the dead.
He cursed me for bringing him back,
He spoke of life beyond death.
He screamed at his new masters,
To take him back to the depths.
In rage he smashed the lamp,
Ancient curtains rose in flame.
The family mansion burned,
Villagers pulled us from the flames.
My friend was committed whilst I was saved,
Upon his request a gun I rasied.
With his death I must complete the deal,
The ‘Deep Ones’, my life must be claimed.
This avenue that leads from his burial I walk,
The trees watching over the dead.
I am a murderer, I am a monster,
I now serve Dagon, an eternity awaits.
Dedicated to HP Lovecraft
He looked up at the tower that loomed up far above him; the colours had drained from the world around him. He knew he was dreaming now, the light no longer behaving as the laws of physics dictated. Shadows lurked where light fell and light fell where shadows lurked. The tower was old and no longer held the means to reach the higher floors without scaling the now dangerously rugged and brittle walls.
His eyes scaled the tower reading the wall, making sense of the outcrops and holes finding where he could grip and support himself. As his mind deciphered the complex puzzle of ascension his mind questioned what was forcing him to climb the dangerous tower; risking the fall and even the experience of death. Fear crept in, disrupting the flow as his eyes leapt from hold to hold working his path to the room at the top where ‘It’ was. This thought only increased his fear, he lost his path up and his eyes fell upon the single entrance at the top. His mind drifted to his covets to enter through the doorway and face his ‘It’.
His ‘It’ has plagued him for more years than he can remember, always lurking in dark corners, venturing out when his waking world became too much for him. His mind traversed to the memory of when he fell, losing everything that made him who he was. His purpose and faith destroyed, losing God. The void was filled by his ‘It’ and it was one of his fallen brothers who manipulated his ‘It’, unleashing his anger and inflicting torment on those he once cherished.
The memories filled his mind with rage, but not the rage that his ‘It’ fed upon, it was a rage to destroy his ‘It’ and find the light again. As his right hand reached for the first hold in the wall and then his left leg found a grip at the base of the wall, he pushed. His mind casually thought as he reached for the next hold, how easy this would have been if he had not ripped his wings off in defiance of the Devil.
Sun beat down across the landmass that emanated from the south of the island. Air was humid, begging for Storm to honour it with it’s battle drums and spears to clear the way. Rock sat patiently whilst the beating of Sun pounded against the stone, the heat being given to Air. Rock took some for itself, it only lost to Air as the day wore on.
Sea lapped quietly at Rock, cooling waters followed directions taken by its ancestors, who slowly formed a passage into the land. The deep currents and shallow waves brought up Thought from the depths, carried up from the deepest trenches where Life knew how to live.
As Rock warmed, Thought moved through the dark caves carved and settled in by Sea. It left the waves and found parts of Air forgotten but traces of Sun mapped a way through heat and then light.
Thought spilled out rising on the warm currents and causing Air to move more than it cared as Sun burned away. Wind saw a chance to fly once more and carried the thought inland. Thought found Tree and its leaves whispered the word “Follow”.
