March 15, 1937: Arkham Massachusetts

From the Notebook of H. P. Lolschach: March 15, 1937

I am not an old man, though I feel as archaic and eon-worn as the eldest pyramid beneath the deepest sands. I have lived what some might term a peculiar life, partly by choice and partly by subconscious urges far beyond my means to control. For you see, my vocation has been that of a "paranormal investigator", as layman society would describe it. Through a combination of my own upper class priviledges and resources, encouraged by my ever-increasing morbid curiosities, I have traveled the length of this world, as well as others, and seen sights that would reduce even the staunchest skeptic to utter, blissful insanity.

I have been to the secret laboratories of Miskatonic University and looked into the eyes of the dead, re-animated to a festering existence caught somewhere between life and the beyond. I have even shaken hands with their creator and tormentor, the late Dr. Herbert West.

I have read the blasphemous grimoires and forbidden texts so often suppressed by fearful, civilized societies. I have peeked into the Necronomicon of the Mad Arab Abdhul Alhazred, digested spells and incantations from Ludwig Prinn's De Vermis Mysteriis, studied the Hyperborean Book of Eibon by candle light and spent many an hour engrossed in Francois-Honore Balfour's Cultes Des Goules.

I have traversed the misty, forboding streets of Innsmouth and observed the locals offering their blood sacrifices to the ghastly Deep Ones, who in turn serve the even ghastlier Dagon.

I have recovered the Church of Starry Wisdom's talisman, the Shining Trapezohedron from its resting place at the bottom of Narragansett Bay. And through it, I have peered into the sunken Cyclopean city of R'lyeh where ever slumbers mighty Cthulhu.

I have journeyed to the lost domain of the Elder Things, frozen for all time in the Antarctic wastelands. I have read of their history and escaped the invisible, hungry jaws of their mysterious Haunter.

In dreams I have befriended the cats of Ulthar, whom no man may kill. I have toured the glorious streets of honored Celephais and dined with King Kuranes. I have descended the spiral stairway within the Tower of Koth and come face to face with the man-eating Gugs which dwell within the Underworld.

I have done many, many things. And now, it seems, I shall do nothing more with my life than end it.

For I have spent a lifetime traversing the forbidden realms where man may never be invited, and in each instance I have narrowly escaped a fate most gruesome. Regrettably, one can only outrun his pursuers for so long and mine, at long last, have caught up with me.

I can hear it, now. A formless, nameless abomination, shambling down the cellar stairs and oozing greasily toward the poorly bolted door behind which I sit, scribbling my final thoughts.

As it draws nearer, I can feel it invade the sanctity of my mind and I can feel my own mind being drawn into it's. I can see through it's eyes, now. So many, many eyes. I can see colours. Indescribale colours far beyond the scope of the human spectrum. I can perceive dimensions incalculable through a plethora of senses no human brain could feign to fathom.

And with that last, somber revelation, I realize that I, myself, am no longer human. I am it. It is me. And if that is the case, then by ridding the world of myself, I should likely succeed in ridding the world of it, as well.

I must now exchange my pencil for the revolver in my coat pocket. Excuse me.

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LOLSCHACH's Journal: April 5, 2009

Mother often told stories of Great Granduncle, H. P. Lolschach. Idolized him in youth. Foolish.

Journals reveal Great Granduncle to be pathetic, simpering coward. Loses all composure at sight of shoggoth or perhaps mi-go. Takes easy way out. Hurm. Disgraceful.

Have spent better part of adult life surrounded by glowing blue penises, overweight men in animal costumes, slutty women with Elektra complexes, and possible homosexuals with Egyptian fetishes.

Great Granduncle had it easy.