Dr. Francis Martin,
I cannot begin to tell you the thought process that was had to reach the decision to end it all now. Instead, I will recount the happenings of the week of October 13th to 16th of 1930 whence I was acquainted with the horror born from beyond our space and time. The very horror which has confined me to this building, isolated from flora and fauna alike. Perhaps the recounting of this horrid past could help you understand the source of this depravity. It's true that my deprived state was in part caused by Isabel's passing. However, I would have healed with time, as have others who have loved and lost, if only I had not paid credence to the idea that I should immerse myself in my work in order to save my sanity and my job at the Arkham Gazette. I had taken two weeks off from work following the pitiful outburst of emotion when I read the obituary of my dearly beloved before it was published. Her family did not care for our relationship, and deemed it unnecessary to advise me of her passing two days before the publishing of the obituary. Regardless, there's no point in lamenting what cannot be helped.
I still remember how the hour long drive to the cabin consisted mainly of silence. As a matter of fact, I had not spoken much in the past few weeks, for most of my time was spent moping at the thought of Isabel no longer being at my side. As I reached the log cabin there stood an old man next to an old Model T Ford. The truck looked just as weathered as the old man, enough to suggest that he had owned it longer than I have been alive. Without much of a word, the old man approached me as he got out of the car, and handed me the key. He didn't exactly look welcoming but he didn't look at me with disdain either. It was the look of a jaded old man tired of routine. Or so I thought.
"Ya otta be careful, these goddamn racoons dun come back every night and sift through them garbage cans oer' there. Don't try to fight them, theys some feisty sunsa' bitches. I reckon just let them be and you'll be alright."
I nodded yes with a slightly broken smile. Now that I think of it, it was my first time smiling since before the incident. 'This is it,' I thought as I walked through the door frame. I didn't even notice the old man leave. The cabin looked small from the outside, but was quite spacious on the inside. What was not apparent from the outside was that it was built tall rather than wide. At first glance, I noticed the kitchen and a small table on the far right corner of the cabin, over to the left side was a small couch sitting a few feet from the left wall, which had a small fireplace built in. To my immediate left was a small ladder which reached the loft. The loft space had a bed on the far left corner, and the restroom on the far right corner, above what would be the kitchen on the first floor. On the opposite end of the ladder, across from the restroom was a desk which sat next to a window. After my initial scan of the cabin I went to gather my notebooks and pens from the car.
In what seemed to be earlier than usual, the sky began to darken. The tall trees in the area covered the sun as it began to set in the west and took the extra few minutes of light I would have had otherwise. While carrying my supplies, the cabin door slammed shut. I had not felt a breeze or knew of a way to justify the door closing so suddenly, and after a few seconds of mental gymnastics I reached for the door handle. I scurried back inside and quickly lit the candles that would accompany me in my stay. Nothing inside seemed out of the ordinary. Everything was as I had left it so I chalked it up to a draft caused by an open window on the second floor. Still, the uneasiness did not go away.
I awoke the next morning to the sounds of multiple shuffling feet above me. 'It must be the raccoons' I thought. It was a nuisance, but I figured it was a good time to start working. My watch read 7:14 AM, and it was then when I realized I had slept past my 7 AM alarm. As I climbed down the ladder drowsily, I noticed it was a mostly quiet morning, with no noise other than the sounds that woke me up. I found my notebook and pens sitting at the kitchen table where I had left them the night before and sat down after setting up the coffee pot. The smell of coffee in the morning filled the cabin and gave me the push I needed to start writing even before I poured myself a cup.
After the first two sips I noticed something was not quite right. It was as if the taste of copper had made its way into the coffee. I could have justified it by claiming the coffee pot was aged, except the coffee pot was brand new. An engagement gift from a friend, nonetheless. Not to mention, the pot would have surely been nickel-silver or that fancy new stainless steel rather than copper. "I'm wasting time", I thought, but froze instantly when I looked at my watch and it read 6:45 AM.
I looked out the window, but was unable to discern just what time it really was due to the trees covering any view promised by the windows. What's more, still no birds could be heard. I looked at my notebook - at the sentence I left unfinished - and wanted to keep writing, but knew that the curiosity would never let me go. As I walked towards the door, I looked at my watch once more. 6:43 AM.
The door hinges cried a slow creek as I opened the door, but as I stepped through I found myself sitting upright on the bed. The sounds of birds chirping their morning songs could be heard from the outside. I looked at the night stand next to the bed, and the alarm clock read 6:59 AM. Almost immediately my alarm rang.
"Fucking a," I said. my first words since arriving.
The smell of coffee once more filled the cabin, although this time I was sure it was real. The taste only confirmed it. No traces of metals. I sat down at the table and opened my journal once more. A sudden wave of confusion and dread overcame me as I read the last sentence. The last - unfinished - sentence, that is.
Thoughts raced in and out of my head. How is this possible? Could it have really happened? Surely it was written in a drowsy state before I went to bed, right? Possibly, except the ink looked fresh. So fresh, in fact, that it smeared on the next page. As if it was written in the notebook and then promptly closed. None of it was adding up. Still, those deadlines needed to be met, and time was not stopping.
The alarm rang at 5 pm. It was important for me to set up a dinner bell because of how easy it is for me to get lost in my work. After dinner was a quick cigarette before I got back to work, however something caught my attention while I was smoking. From my peripheral I noticed a bit of cigarette smoke still in the air, unmoving. I moved my face in closer, squinting. With curiosity and fascination I inched closer. Closer. So close I could feel the smoke caress my face. However strange it was, I felt the need to examine the intricacies of smoke particles. Such opportunities do not come often if at all. It was curious, the more I leaned in closer to see it, the more it seemed to maintain the same distance away. Like it moved away as I moved closer. A sense of familiarity came over me as I breathed. The smell of cigarette smoke? No. The smell of cigarette smoke and something else. Was it rust? I recognized it as the smell of cigarette smoke, copper, and rust.
In that instant the curiosity faded into concern. I looked around, trying to make sense of the situation. As I did, I noticed that the trees around me were completely still. The seconds hand in my watch is also unmoving. However strange it all was, my attention was directed at the sensation that someone was watching. I turned behind me. Nothing. Behind me again, not there. From my left, no. From my right, not there either. From inside the cabin? Nothing in sight. I put out the cigarette and proceeded to walk back towards the cabin. As I walked back I felt a tug at my shoe almost tripping me. I turned slowly, dreadfully awaiting what I would see, but I found nothing. It was nothing but a vine. One shake and my shoe was free from its earthly grasp. Time to get back to work.
The door whined a familiar slow creek as it opened, and the first thing to greet me was an intoxicating smell of copper. The cabin was obscure, not much could be seen but a red hue covered it in its entirety. The ceiling light was completely red. The dry air almost asphyxiated me, and my visible breath confirmed a drop in temperature. I turned around slowly not understanding the visage presented before me. I stopped trying to understand and instead turned in haste towards the door, but when I went through, I found myself standing inside the cabin again. There was no egress. A neverending chill crept slowly up my spine. The smell of copper grew even stronger, but now with a smell of something rotten. It made me sick to my stomach but was unable to throw up. I felt a slight tap on my shoulder. I turned slowly. As I did, I felt a second tap, this time I noticed it was blood dripping from the ceiling. I looked up slowly, the confusion and dread made me physically tremble. As I looked up, I saw a mirror reflection on the ceiling. But it differed from a mirror in that there was depth to the reflection rather than a two dimensional mirror view. Every detail in the cabin could be seen perfectly replicated on the ceiling. Then there was me. I saw myself looking up at myself. A paralyzing chill overcame me as I felt a cold hand grab me by the neck, and I saw a dark, ghastly apparition standing behind me. In that moment I felt its gaze as I had before, except now I was sure it - whatever it was - was there, standing behind me. It had no discernible shape. But whatever it was, it was restraining me with nothing more than a chill macabre hand to the back of my neck. Then, complete darkness.
I awoke the next morning by the sound of my 7AM alarm with no recollection of ever going to sleep on the bed. But what concerned me the most was the nature of the nightmare which plagued me before waking up that morning. I decided to go downstairs and continue my work. Day three was an important one because it marked the halfway point to my seven day stay. If I did not manage to make enough progress to my deadlines then the whole trip would have been a waste. With a quick step down I turned from facing the ladder. Everywhere in the kitchen were glass bottles. Every alcohol reserve I had brought on this trip was gone. The words escaped me. How dumb could I have been? It had been ten years since alcohol became prohibited, and most of what I had had been scrounged up over the course of the last three years. Alcohol was my biggest writing motivator and having nothing of it meant my writing process had just become arduous. I held my journal longingly, hoping that whatever was inside was worth the binge. When I opened the journal, two of my assignments were completed. At that moment, as I read the words, the memories started flooding in. I stayed up late night drinking and writing. Despite the terrible headache and the incredible nausea that ailed me, the amount of work I had already done was enough to motivate me to keep working.
I was quite proud at the progress I had made with such little time despite the waste of my alcohol reserve and Isabel's memories taking me out of work flow. I felt I was at the cusp of understanding just what I was meant to do in the world without the one person I loved dearly, but could not quite pinpoint it just yet. One thing I was sure of, it had something to do with renfining my craft. I had taken up writing for the newspaper as a temporary job to carry me through my engagement, and in that process I had taken a liking to creative writing. I knew I wanted to keep writing, but I did not know what.
I reached for my pocket and produced a small tin box which held my cigarettes. My watch read 7:14 PM, now four hours had been spent in my head, and took a much needed cigarette break. The sun was setting over the top of the trees as the birds sang an evening song.
A loud sudden thump pulled me from my trance. What was it? I looked behind me in the direction I heard the sound come from. As I creeped over the side of the cabin I noticed one of the aluminum garbage cans had been knocked over. 'Those goddamned raccoons,' I thought. I went over to pick it up but as I grabbed the can by the rim I felt my hands wet.
"Ugh, garbage water," my face recoiled in disgust.
I looked around but there was no sign of raccoons. I figured it must have gotten spooked by the can tipping over and proceeded back inside to wash my hands of filth. Disgusted by the garbage water, I immediately started the faucet and started washing them. Immediately a pool of red began to fill the sink and it was only then when I realized that the trash can was tainted with what could only be assumed was blood rather than garbage water.
"Aw come on!" With a face twisted from disgust, I washed my hands a while longer.
I doubled over in laughter at the ridiculousness of it all, and became light headed from laughing too much. I tried to stop laughing, but I could not physically contain myself. I looked around trying to make sense of the situation, but I could not justify my involuntary laughter. The light headedness only increased as my lungs continued to rhythmically expel their air from within. I tried to grab the edge of the table as I tumbled to the cabin floor. An empty thump filled the cabin momentarily, only to go unheard by anyone other than myself. The laughter then turned into wheezing as I felt the vacuum in my lungs anxiously awaiting to be filled. Through my wheezing I heard something else. A shrieking sound which could only be interpreted as a laugh filled the inside of my head. It sounded like a mixture of the sounds of bagpipes, and a dolphin with the intensity of an elephant trumpeting sounds. The loss of air became serious, and I could do nothing but hope for oxygen to return to me.
As consciousness began to slip from me, whatever ungodly thing possessed me into uncontrollable laughter quickly faded, and I breathed eagerly. Never in my life had I been so grateful to be able to breathe. But at what price? Every breath had the taste of copper and rotten eggs, and I was certain now that I was not alone. I felt a cold lifeless gaze fixed on me. It was undoubtedly the same exact feeling I had the day before. I turned to look out the front cabin windows, but found nothing. I turned around to the window by the fireplace. Everything seemed to be completely normal.
"I must be going mad," I said out loud. I moved towards the window to get a breath of fresh air. Everything seemed to have returned to normalcy until the darkness of the night moved from my line of sight to reveal a touch of sunlight from a setting sun. A slow and low rumble could be felt rattling the cabin. I turned around once more and was able to confirm with absolute certainty there was a shadow which completely covered the span of the front facing windows. Whatever it was, it was darker than the blackest shade of black I had ever seen. my heart began to palpitate faster at the thought of the shadow's laugh which still rang in my head. The smell now is a powerful stench. The cold air nibbling at my skin. The shadow circled around the cabin from window to window as I stood frozen in the middle of the room. The shadow moved at a steady pace, the slow rumble rattled my bones with anticipation.
I figured I had a slight window of opportunity to get to the car while the shadow was behind the cabin. I eyed the door nervously, then the keys on the key hook, then the door once more. The shadow paced steadily exactly three laps before I made my move.
Adrenaline filled my movement as I sprinted a few steps toward the door, grabbed the keys and proceeded to sprint toward my car before I tripped on the same vine I had tripped over the earlier day. I quickly shook free and threw myself clumsily into my car. The shadow moved slowly but was still gaining on me. The sound of my keys rattling frantically filled the inside of my car with desperation.
Every breath was heavy with despair.
The barely illuminating headlights shone on the cabin before it all went completely black. The headlights were still working, but the shadow had stepped into the light and absorbed it into oblivion. The shadow was not a shadow, but a thing. A being of complete darkness. Almost like a solid cloud of the color black. The light post flickered with a malignant frenzy as I managed to set the car to reverse, and with adrenaline-fuelled precision turned the car around and drove the way I had come.
Unending rows of trees passed left and right. Only a few feet of distance were visible in front of me at any given moment. The feeling of relief slowly began to settle in as I felt I was finally getting away from whatever the shadow creature was.
Without a warning, a body hanging from the trees in the center of the trail hit my windshield, causing me to swerve and crash into a tree.
I opened my eyes.
"Wh-"
"Wh-"
"Bu-"
"D-"
"Tr-"
After a few false starts I stopped trying and looked around me. At the door. To my left a table. Around me, a couch, a fireplace, a ladder. I was back in the cabin, completely unharmed. I struggled to regain my composure.
"Am...I'm g- going m- m- mad." I stammered, not sure of whether what had just happened actually had. Almost instinctively, I turned once more to the window behind me before seeing the shadow pass once more. Immediately I looked at the door. Then the key hook. I knew what I had to do, except...the keys were not there. I felt my hands firmly clutching something familiar. I slowly looked down at my hand. It trembled in anticipation of what I might find. I was never a praying man, but in that moment, I hoped and prayed that it was not the keys which I was holding in my hand. I opened my hand and revealed a small key ring, then clutched it tight hoping it would disappear when I opened my hand again. A high shriek pierced my head with an incessant alien laughter. Cold shivers crawled throughout my body at the realization that I was hopeless. I knew it. And I knew it knew it. My knees grew weak in that moment and I fell to the floor face first. A hollow thump resonated in the cabin. My sight was blurry, and the cabin was dark, but in that moment I knew I had to find a different way out. I deliberated on the hopelessness of my situation before the hollow sound I had now heard twice gave me an idea. I crawled and sat up against the sofa, and with a forceful push revealed the reason for the hollow sound. A trap door with worn, gilded hinges. At the center of the door was weird carving of some sort. Antlers, crudely drawn with a dull blade. Beneath the crude drawing was the number 638. Another thump shook the cabin harder than before. The room felt like it was shrinking even though I visually debunked the thought. The shadow began to envelop the cabin. Window after window darkened, leaving the inside of the cabin so dark it was disorienting. All perception of up, down, left, and right were gone. I trusted in nothing but my hands to open the door and gauge the size of the opening before crawling down the hole.