Insanity Grows

Milton Johnson, maybe he was the first, maybe I need to somehow shift the curse back to his family... And the note in his final drawings, almost match the words of my mother.

(This artwork depicts the vicious Cycle of Three. I don’t have much time left, for I fear it or they are near. I dare not draw the Haunter, because I cannot imagine the horror. To my loving wife and daughter I leave this gift. I have burned the portion that featured the last in the cycle. I did this to spare you the terror of the three lobed burning eye, Goodbye.)

Could it be? Could this be the break I have been searching for?  Wait!No! Agh! Agh!

It’s coming! It’s coming!

They won’t stop! They’ve been at it for so long that I’m not even sure they know how to stop. What?! What?! What is coming?! Yog-Sothoth, where are you? Forget “Who are you?” and “What are you?” Now I need “Where are you?” I need you. I need you here. I need your help.

Agh! Agh! 

My head is going to explode.

It’s coming! It’s coming!

What’s coming?!

I can feel my body losing itself. My hands are shaking, my knees are wobbling, and I can hardly speak except to scream occasionally. I can’t walk straight. I stumble and trip with every step. The best option for me right now is to crawl.

It’s coming! It’s coming!

Yog-Sothoth, help me! Please!

It’s coming! It’s coming!

That’s it! That’s really, really it! I’m done! I’m out!

Where should I go... Maybe Narragansett Bay? 

Cycle of Three

This is so strange, the ending of these journals are so vague. They keep referencing some entity, the three-lobed burning eye, and cycle of three, what does it all mean? I must be close to something, the voices are growing louder, and they won’t let up. Uncle, What the hell is it?

In uncle Robert’s last entry he states, “I see it coming here hell-wind, titan blur, black wings, Yog-Sothoth save me, the three-lobed burning eye.”

This was followed by Stefan-Kingston’s final entry, which reads, “It is horrifying. I can barely write this. I don’t know if it is staring at me from below the surface of the water, or if it is reflected in the water from behind me. I dare not turn to see…the three lobed burning eye.”

This all hit home with my father’s last journal entry, which reads, “My daughter will not see it, I will see it soon enough, but I will burn the evil to the ground before my daughter sees the three lobed burning eye.” Yog-Sothoth or Azathoth, who are you and why is my uncle praying to you? This is insanity; no creature has three-lobed burning eyes.

Stop! Please stop, these voices, they grow louder, It’s coming, It’s coming over and over. I swear it’s almost like they are chanting. What, no way, can’t be. Guess what? My lights are flickering and yes, the odor is worse than ever. I don’t know who or what you are Yog-Sothoth, but please, help me! I can’t take it anymore. Stop! Help me, I won’t look, I won’t see it!

I have to find the stone and I have to destroy it! Sanctified land, holy ground, yes, that has to work against this pure evil. Help me please help me!

My God, Their Faces!

Damn lights, they continue to flicker. I hate it! I hate this house, I hate these journals, hate this curse. What am I going to do? These visions, these smells, these nightmares that plague me; what are these wicked creatures? Where did they come from? Their skin, their faces, their burning eyes… My god, their faces! Give me strength lord to escape. 

Uncle, what have you brought down upon our family? Why did you free this curse? I can’t take it anymore; some type of demonic hoard is overtaking my life. I must escape this nightmare, but how? I know, I have to find the stone, where is that damn stone?

The city, it has to be in Providence, trapped by the rotting stench of decay. Hmmm, I don’t know, where in Providence? The water, yes the water, Narragansett Bay? That does sit by the city, but I just don’t know. Father, uncle, mother…give me a sign!

Stop, Please Stop!

Everyday since I have started researching these journals (and my family’s curse), I have awoken to the visions of blood soaked streets, revolting beasts torturing me inside some type of blackened chamber illuminated by some type of ornate stone, and worst of all, scenes of my demise. I swear, this is a never-ending nightmare that I cannot forget: cannot escape. Those nightmares, and these voices that chastise my every move, are what is pushing me to complete my research. 

Now that I have had my coffee, where should I begin? Let me see, maybe here… From my research, I am not the only family member to hear these weird calls from the abyss; my uncles, my father, and likely my mother heard them as well. Where do they come from? Are they real? I hope not.

Dammit Stop! Please Stop! 

I don’t know what to do anymore. Any time I sit down, these sounds echo through my mind. Plus the more I dig into these books, the more I see these strange visions of some type of face: three eyes, three burning lobes, what the hell? My mind is weak and I cannot go on, I must stop this. I have to rest, these terrifying visions feel so real. I never want to be part of that nightmare again; I want to move on.