If you are reading this, then either one of two things has happened. Either this letter was retrieved from my dead body in this strange room that defies any school of physics, or by some miraculous turn of events, I managed to survive this horrific and blasphemous event that has consumed the city. I have plenty of time, as many a man before me waiting to be consumed by some unseen foreboding doom may already know. So I will do my best to explain, or at least attempt to explain how I ended up here.
My name is Alfred Wright, I will skip the pleasantries of explaining exactly who I am as it bears no holding in what I am about to tell. I am originally from Surrey, but moved to Lockwood in May of 1884, and I have lived here for little over a month so I am by no means considered one of the distinguished residents.

This city had always fascinated me, its towering architecture and abundance of old Gothic influence held a certain allure over me. But once I became a resident here, I realised there were unknown forces at work here, something I cannot simply put my finger on and explain. Lockwood is, in my experience, a very insular city. It is a massive city, perhaps big enough to compete with London itself, but at the same time, strangely isolated from anywhere else, both geographically and socially. But I digress, aside from that, there is something strange about this place. The people here are odd, many things I would consider an oddity, these people think nothing of. There is a grand cathedral for instance, at the far end of Herbert Street that sits atop an immense set of stairs of maybe 700 to 1000 steps high at a guess. How or why the entire country isn’t in awe of this place’s immense grandness still eludes me. But aside from the cathedrals fascinating construction, the interior is wrought with the strangest, most unearthly sculptures one could conceive of. Beings carved into the stone that appear to bear no origin to any creature on this world. The religion they preach is not any form of Christianity, Hinduism, Muslim or anything I have heard of. They call themselves simply, The Holy Orthodoxy. As difficult as it is for me to get my mind around, they worship, as far as I can tell, a person or being they call Dun-Thendyr. As to exactly what this being represents or what its significance is, I have yet to figure. But the cities unusual rituals and fascination with what I can only refer to as the occult, served only as an uneasy back drop to what came next.

It was a bright day in mid June when all of this started. The morning was warm, and hot even by mid day, enough that I shed my waistcoat before lunch. On that day there was an eerie feel in the air, something out there in the rest of the city was afoot, but guessing what was beyond me. Aside from the unusual air over the city, the first of the unusual events started just after noon. I could see from my dining room window a large group of the towns folk parading through the street in an orderly fashion. The priest from the church walked at the front of the procession holding a large staff with smoke bellowing out from a fluted ball on the end. The folk behind him chanted something that rang through the streets and up into the air from where I heard it. Their tone was dour, their words like none I’d ever heard, as if another language, but no language I’d ever known of. Allen was a man that lived next door to me. An ageing recluse who obviously found it difficult to converse with others at the best of times, what became of him as I write this I still don’t know, as I will explain later. Upon asking him, he’d said little other than “It’s the last night of the waxing moon, best keep your door locked tonight.”
I was unable to pry any more information from him of exactly what or why the waxing moon would have any significance here, but as I’d already learnt, I was, and still am virgin to this places customs. Later in the afternoon, the alien procession was followed by some kind of dark sounding, even occult sermon given by the high priestess of The Orthodoxy in the cathedral. The cathedral was a fair distance from my house but the speech seemed perfectly clear to me regardless of the distance involved. The sensation chilled me, the words and the tone of it all set my nerves ablaze as it stirred some awful primordial fear into motion. By the time the chants of the unknown started again, I began to stir as I became increasingly concerned about what was happening. I cannot put it into words as to exactly why I felt so disturbed by this. The city out from my window seemed distant, the air strangely quiet and the sunlight subdued as if the people of the cathedral were summoning the end of days, Ragnarok as it was called in Viking lore.
I’d knocked on Allen’s door again but to no avail this time. I fruitlessly asked questions in a vane hope he’d answer but he simply refused to respond. As the chants grew louder throughout the city I felt its unbearable grasp clutch me, there was no escape from the sound of it. Places that had once been silent now only amplified the evil verses reverberating through my soul. I’d quickly became nauseous, then within moments I felt the desperate need to evacuate my stomach. I cannot properly explain this most bizarre sensation other than the sound of the chants, that sounded something akin the Gregorian chant, began sounding as if it were coming from inside my own mind.

By the time the sun was low in the sky and the shadows grew long, the sermon had ceased. But beyond that, strange and unusual sounds began calling out from the near darkness. On numerous evenings before now I have heard calls and shouts of things whos logical explanation eludes me, but on that evening, these unsettling noises were louder, closer and generally far more unsettling than what I’d known before. Howls of an unexplainable tone ripped through the air from somewhere afar, shrieks of rage, terror, evil, I wasn’t sure which started filling the air first. Odd as it was, with the terrible chanting from the cathedral now gone, I’d regained my hunger enough that I’d eaten something before daring to glance outside at the streets below. Somehow, the people of Lockwood had changed. I’d wondered if my mind had been affected, if I really was still in my right mind when I saw the monstrosities walking the streets outside. Deformed, many of them in different ways. They’d grown tall, their arms and legs now becoming far too long for their bodies, hair turned to something akin the straw. It was as if they ceased to be human, instead becoming almost human and mostly something I can’t explain. They walked the streets with torches of fire, lumbering through in groups as if on some kind of hunt. I dared not venture any further than my front door as the last of the orange sun disappeared below the spired horizon of the city and silently promised the beginning of the nightmare. I could scarcely believe what I lay witness to down on the streets, the insane, the impossible, but now it walked the streets, clear as day. Had the worshippers awoken some evil energy during their sermon I don’t know, whether they had been vouching for or against this turn of events, I’m still not sure. Little did I know, this was still just the start of my descent into the insane and the impossible.

I had tucked myself away inside and tried as best as I could to read under candle light and maybe calm my mind before trying to sleep. I’d checked outside, now noticing the light in the sky. The full waxing moon sat as promised mid way in the night sky, its faint bluish glare threatening to taint and alter any who were cursed by it. The activity on the streets had waned somewhat but by no means ended. The horrid screams and untold terrors had merely seemed slightly more distant, but not enough so as to calm me to any measure. My pocket watch read 21:35 when I attempted to retire to bed for the first time. I had led there in silence, the sounds from outside only seeming louder as time elapsed and more detail of the waking horrors outside seemed revealed to me through sound. But I was soon moved by the undeniable sense of there being eyes watching me from some hidden vantage. My curtains were drawn, yet something kept its lurid eyes fixed on me from somewhere I couldn’t see. I’d turned over in bed telling myself it was all in my mind, but the unseen gaze was persistent. Soon enough though, as far as I can tell, I did eventually fall into a slumber.
I am not sure of for how long I slept but I was awoken for some unknown reason. As my senses came back to me, I felt the presence of someone near me, either in the house or in the room with me. I hurriedly reached for the oil lamp at my bedside before igniting it a letting its glow reveal the room to me. I froze completely in my place as a figure stood at the far end of the room, my nerves scratching at me at the realisation of another person I could not account for. The figure stood in front of the drawn curtains and silhouetted by the bright moon outside. Outside of a long jacket that nearly reached the floor, its features were indistinguishable as it was only visible to me by the sheer blackness in contrast to the rest of the room. I’d shouted to the assailant, upon which it darted to one side and out of the room before bounding across the landing. I gave chase before noticing the complete absence of sound or any discernible way of tracking the intruder. The upstairs of my house consists of only my bedroom and a bathroom, I’d heard no footsteps running down the stairs so I grabbed my threaded cane and made for the bathroom like a man possessed. Looking back at it now, I feel as though every fibre of my being was telling me not to pursue the dark pitchy being, that by doing so, I somehow set things into motion that couldn’t be undone. Creeping along the landing, the air remained silent as if I were once again alone, not even a single laboured breath reached my ears from the bathroom. The perceived absence of the intruder quickly grew into a knot of dread that twisted my mind and nerves at the realisation I may have been alone the whole time. Closing in, I raised my cane before bursting in through the door. There was no one there, I’d quickly brought my lamp from the bedroom into the bathroom, and there was no one there, nor any evidence that anyone else other than myself had been there.
Just as I was about to begin a sweep of the entire house, footsteps sounded, this time from above. Loud, almost beast like steps sprinting across what sounded like the roof of the house. I stopped completely, my hands trembling before the footsteps came to a halt somewhere directly above me. My mind quickly stirred into a soup of primordial terror as something I couldn’t begin to imagine walked the space above me somewhere outside. Listening with the kind of intensity as if ones life depended on it, it sounded as though whatever it was, was moving as a quadruped rather than on two legs as a human would. The timbers in the loft space creaked with the weight of the thing, moving from one end of the house to the other, I felt as if the thing, what ever it was, was trying to kill me by some nervous breakdown or another. I took a single quiet step toward the stairs when a deafening howl erupted from above that must have been heard on the other side of the city. Thinking back to it, the vocalisation sounded something akin a roar of some kind, but what ever it was proved to be enough that it will stay with me until I die. Suddenly, the beast sprinted from one end to the other before disappearing, presumably off and across to another building.
Understandably, the turn of events had me climbing the walls in anxiety. With my mind now blindly stretched thin trying to fathom this horrendous oddity, a return to sleep seemed a forlorn hope. I’d opted to sit in my arm chair downstairs with my oil lamp at my side and my cane in one hand. I’d sat there, I know not for how long, but listened intently for the dreaded return of the beasts unknown.
After having been sat there for a fair time, I had actually fallen asleep in the chair. But what my slumber led me to was something as impossible as it was terrifying.

I felt as though I had awoken, but upon opening my eyes, not in the world I knew. A disfigured and barren landscape, its scope infinite as the land stretched off as far as my eyes could see. The sky was the strangest purple dotted with odd shaped clouds that didn’t seen natural, thunder rumbled overhead, an ominous soundtrack befitting ones doom. Opulent gravestones materialised around me, from whence they had come, I don’t know, but I could feel the presence of another with me. They stuck up from the ground at varying angles like the teeth in a sharks deathly maw, a creeping fog emerged from the foot of the stones soon to hug my feet as it bled across the ground. Somehow, my mind was by some unknown means, connected to or being manipulated by, some other being. I was in what was commonly referred to as the Netherworld, currently residing on just one of many plains of this world who appeared fundamentally non physical in nature, as if it were perhaps a kind of dream world. Yet I saw everything around me with perfect clarity as if I were awake and in my normal world. There were other beings in this unearthly realm, entities birthed from the lower astral plain, gifted with powers to manipulate and even break through and into the waking world I was from. I know not of how or why this information was given to me other than it feeling as though it simply propagated in my consciousness, perhaps allowed to peculate to the forefront of my awareness by what ever force was at work here. It was at this point, I must tell, that a name came through to me. I did not hear it with ears, but like the awful chant of the unknowns, it emanated from within my own mind.
“Hâg-Sollath, Hâg-Sollath.” That was the name I heard. Somehow I had been given explicit understanding if this name but not what it pertained to. I knew it well enough that I knew how to pronounce its unearthly syllables, and knew precisely the correct spelling, which upon realising such alien information, was quite unnerving. Shortly after this, I was then plunged into a nightmare. A piece of meat floating though a whitewater of nightmarish and carnivorous creatures, I was ripped apart. My legs torn away in a bloody and gory mess from my body, my arms pulled from my shoulders, my insides pulled from me and strewn about the air around me. I find the nightmare too traumatic to remember as I was of course, the subject of all this blood and pain. But I was tormented in this way for a fair time until awoke back in the waking world, just as I had been with my cane in one hand. By this time, my oil lamp had expired which told me I must have been either asleep or perhaps in the so called Netherworld for several hours.
I could hear voices from outside, many of them, raised and angry, as if seeking retribution against something or someone. Looking out from my window again, I was surprised to see that the almost human locals had constructed a kind of large bonfire in the middle of the road. A pyre of stacked timbers that pointed inward at a single large stake, the thing had yet to have been lit, but it looked as though some poor soul was destined to be burnt to death at some point. The grotesque locals meandered around the construct now carrying pitch forks, flame torches and some even with short swords something akin to a sabre.
I tried to settle back into my armchair once more hoping to god morning would soon be here. Checking my pocket watch, it read 04:20, and for this time of year, it meant I should at least begin to see the sun rising in the next hour. But before that happened, my mind seemed once again influenced by some alien force I couldn’t perceive. I was flung into a waking nightmare, the walls and halls of my own home that once seemed so comforting now reached out to me with grotesque blackish hands, the ceiling lowered to just above my head and in the claustrophobic hell, obsidian spectres haunted the rooms. I struggle to fully describe the ethereal terror I was trapped within, the lines between what was real and not seemed blurred enough that I became unable to discern reality from nightmare. I endured these hellish terrors for several hours as I was completely helpless against whichever being was working its evil powers on me. After a time the nightmare began to wane, upon which I seized the the opportunity to refill the oil in my lamp with what remaining Paraffin I had left. But the strangest thing happened as I checked the time. My pocket watch, which I have had for at least 5 years and has consistently and reliably always kept good time, suddenly conflicted with what I was seeing. Outside, the sky was still perfectly dark as if it were a winters midnight, the moon high in the sky and no sign of the rising sun to indicate morning. But to my disbelief and horror, my watch was reading 07:25, and the second hand remained ticking on as reliably as ever. Even to this moment that I write this, the sun has still not risen. I have never known any lunar event to cause a prolonged night such as this in England, and to what ever force is making this happen I cannot conjecture. I had been praying for morning to arrive in hopes that this hellish and seemingly eternal night might end and I can be freed from this horrid torment.
I had waited in evil torment through several bouts of these waking nightmares before several more hours had passed and still with no sign of day break. Any oil I had for my lamp had by this point been used and what little food I had in the kitchen was quickly disappearing. Looking to my watch that read 12:30 before sitting to eat what little lunch I could stomach was the strangest sensation when outside remained a dark and unending night. A short time into the afternoon was when I began hearing things from next door. Loud bellowing shrieks that turned into a tumult of haunting howls and inhuman shouts that upon hearing them, chilled me to the bone. I could hear exceptionally clearly the sound of sporadic movement in the rooms next door. Quick and heavy footsteps racing hither and tither as if a room size cat were chasing a mouse about the place and knocking everything to the ground as it did so. My mind ran wild with visions of what might have been going on in Allen’s house. Soon though, with the waking nightmares seeming to increase in intensity, I began feeling an urge to leave my house and perhaps venture in search of supplies. I opened the front door as quietly as I could, but upon stepping outside I was shocked by the sudden change in climate. The night outside had gone from a warm summers evening were even a brisk stroll could have broken a sweat, to a breeze of ice and razors enough to give one a chill if not dressed properly. I braved the unexplained cold long enough to stand outside Allen’s before looking down to the road below where a dozen or more almost human locals stood as if waiting for something. Inside Allen’s house, something was running around inside, large enough that its footsteps made the floorboards inside rattle with every step as it screamed and roared tumultuously as if writhing in some torment or another. I considered knocking on the door, but upon simply listening to what ever it was inside, I decided against it.

Within that very moment, I heard action down on the street below as the locals began to stir into a frenzy of pitchforks and flame torches around the waiting pyre. The group stood looking at an alleyway at the end of the road before several more locals with torches came running up the alley as if being chased. They screamed with morbid terror in their voices before I caught sight of what looked like a black hairy thing giving chase though the alley. Two of the locals emerged into the road to join the rest of the group before the vicious and hairy abomination came into light of the flame torches. I could scarcely believe what I saw emerge from the alley but after hearing what I heard on the roof earlier in the night, I believe I had been somewhat primed for encounters with the abominable. A vicious looking beast with gleaming claws and a dogs head raced out from the alley and into the open where the almost human locals stood with their fire torches at the ready. The beast, that was for a lack of a better term, some kind of wolf-beast, darted straight for the nearest man with its claws extended. The thing roared a bestial scream that should have been enough to inspire mortal dread in the bravest of men as it eviscerated its target in a single sweep. The beasts mortal claws shredded the body into several bloody pieces that scattered off in several directions before it locked onto its next target. I watched in morbid terror as the wolf-beast dissected three more of the locals in the same hurriedly and bloody fashion before the locals began to coordinate themselves. The wolf-beast fixed its gaze on one last local. The almost human man let out the most horrendous scream as the beast first swept its claws at his legs which severed the both of them in one and sent a grizzly trail of blood through the air. Straight after this I witnessed another beast emerge from the alley, but this one walked on two legs and had some slightly more human features about it than its counterpart. This second one I was sure was at some point a human just like me. Although covered in the same black hair as the wolf-beast, this one was still littered with what looked perhaps like the shredded remains of clothing. It clutched some bladed farming implement in one hand which strongly suggested it was far more human than the wolf-beast, though exactly what their relation was I don’t know. The locals seemed far less intimidated by the lesser beast and while a large group distracted the wolf-best away from the other, a smaller group set themselves upon the lesser one. I watched in horror as the road which, at this point was already littered with its fair share of blood, bone and viscera, became the early grave for two more of the almost humans. Shortly after, two of them ran the lesser wolf through with their sabres and began waving their flame torches at the wolf-beast. From where I was it was easy to see the wolf-beast had a strong aversion to fire which explained why most of the locals carried the torches with them. The beast swiped at one last almost human as it maimed but didn’t kill the man who now only had one arm left before turning and scaling the building with an adept ability and vanishing out of sight.

I had silently returned inside completely aghast to try and figure out some kind of a plan of action. With the passing of time, I began feeling the increasing need to leave my house as this nightmare in my head seemed only to feed from my continued staying in my abode. My lamp had ran out of oil so I had already been in complete darkness for hours, and what little food I had left counted for nought. The noise from next door rumbled through into my dining room sending a framed picture crashing to the floor and several books worked themselves free from a bookcase on the opposite wall. Who or what ever was sauntering angrily around in Allen’s house had quickly began sounding almost as though it were about to break through the wall and bring me to my untimely demise. I had stayed in the house for what my watch counted as half an hour before taking my long winter coat and grabbing my cane before braving the unseasonably cold outdoors in favour of something other than what I’d already come to know. Gently closing the door behind me, I saw the almost human locals had tied the dead body of the lesser wolf to the stake and appeared to be preparing to set the thing ablaze as if in aid of some bizarre ritual. Leaving the angry thrashing of Allen’s house behind, I headed for the steps that lead down to the road where the locals were assembled further down. Looking back at it, I had no reason to believe they would have been hostile toward me in spite of their inhuman appearance and brandishing of unsavoury weapons so openly. I still remember so clearly the smell of smoke riding on the freezing breeze and the ghostly moonlight filtering down through the cloud, my pocket watch read 3pm, it was the most unusual sensation.
I reached the bottom of the steps and gazed toward the locals around the waiting pyre. Wondering if I should approach them, I heard something from behind. A wet, gurgling sound and something moist slapping on the ground as it were the footsteps of some aquatic monstrosity. Turning behind me I saw a being I still can’t properly describe as the disgusting horror of its appearance terrified me as much as it shocked me. The thing was short, maybe just 3 or 4 feet high, draped in some kind of cloth that obscured its most inhuman features just slightly. I remember seeing pale reddish skin that looked wet to the touch, bare feet that featured only 3 large toes, each with a large talon that clicked on the ground as it stepped toward me. But the most shocking thing to me was the horrid face. Its features twisted and wrought with some unfathomable pain, the eyes bloodshot and wide beyond any natural explanation. The mouth was stretched open so wide that holes had been torn along the cheeks and some sickening and bloody mass extended from where the tongue should have been as if it were preparing to consume me. The thing shrieked out in a very almost human way before its flaccid and loose steps picked up pace and made toward me. I’d ran toward the almost human locals without a second thought as the awful thing behind me broke into a run. I’d shouted to the locals as I approached, but it was at that point I realised that too was a mistake. They’d turned to me, their disfigured faces lit up by their flame torches before nearly all of them turned to look at me before shouting words of ill meaning. I’d quickly realised they were as I’d originally thought, no longer themselves and hostile toward me. Two of them came sprinting toward me from the crowd with sharp tools and the seeming intent to kill, but with the unnameable horror behind me I’d sought only to escape its deathly grasp. I’d swiftly ran into the crowd of the locals just managing to miss their angered torch swings and bladed implements as they went for me. Managing to evade their aggressive sweeps, I heard several of them running behind me which forced me to break off and jet down an alley to the left before I heard their horrific screams somewhere behind me, presumably from the fetid abomination on my heels. I could hear a what sounded like bodies being broken apart, their wet cracking and slopping limbs hitting the floor before their insides sounded as if they were being slung about the place. The feet behind me seemed to slow and I’d dared to climb a ladder that presented itself to my left. Hoping it would lead me to the top of one of the buildings that overlooked the street, I climbed without even looking back.
Halfway up the ladder an intense sense of dread had permeated every fibre of my body as the unending night continued to give way to unimaginable horrors and entities that couldn’t be conjured in my worst nightmares. The top of the ladder had indeed given me a vantage over the waiting pyre and revealed the fate of the locals down in the street. I’d watched for several minutes as the grotesque, wet monster mutilated the locals below. Several of them had already been either ripped in half or disembowelled, their entrails spread about the street as the still barely living among them screamed and ran at the thing with their weapons. The creature had some strange tendril that extended out of its head from beneath the cloth like a toxic elephant trunk that I watched several times attach itself to the heads of the locals. What I saw next still sickens me to relive but I will tell it, because in the madness of this night, I doubt many others have kept any kind of document of what horrors have been set loose amid this insanity. As the horrid creature attached its trunk like appendage to their heads, it seemed to messily suck out the insides of the people before regurgitating the red and sometimes purple viscera back out onto the ground. Their now bloodied skin would somehow remain standing still as the pile of mashed up internal organs would begin writhing on the ground at their own accord before creeping back to the feet of the hollow corpse of bone and tallow. The rejoining process seemed messy and seemed to leave the corpse with little that resembled a human form. The bodies became bent and broken before twisting into a completely new form of broken bones piercing through stretched skin and intestinal tract. There were four of the locals left trying to stop the seemingly unstoppable little creature when I’d decided I’d seen enough. Turning away to look for a way forward, their screams and the sounds of unimaginable mutilation still stayed at the very front of my mind. I’d remained as quiet as possible as to not gain the attention of another set of horrors waiting to beset me from the darkness.

From that rooftop, I’d been able to walk along to a parapet roof and reach a broken window at the far end that led me into a high interior of a building that at first glance, looked like a dilapidated church alter. The air inside smelled mostly old but I felt that same freezing breeze coming through from somewhere so I guessed it must have led to an exit point. If I had known then what I know now, I wouldn’t have made entrance into the hellish palace of nightmares.
The window emerged into a high walkway around the top of the alter, but to my bewildered surprise, lead to nowhere. The walkway ringed around the wall of the alter, only to meet back to itself with no doors or any discernible way to carry on. This oddity had me befuddled as it had no reason to be there, no logical way of even reaching it. There were thick timber joists running through the middle and across the open space of the alter below. Looking over the balcony, I could see ground somewhere below and a series of joists that, if I was careful, might lend me a way down. After seeing what could only have been a tall shadowy figure standing at the far end of the walkway, which disappeared when I set my gaze upon it, I set myself to use the joists to descend. Precariously, I climbed over the walkway wall and set my feet onto the joist before realising that looking down to the shadowy bottom was a mistake. Steadying myself, I managed to climb down the first joist, onto the second, then the third before I heard scratching somewhere below me. By this point I was probably only about 10 feet from the bottom and could see a handful of wooden boxes and a few larger items covered in large fabric sheets below me. It was at this point that I felt that same ill feeling in the air that I had done earlier. Eyes were on me once again, yet from where, I knew not. Sensing something in my midst, I was awash in dread again as the unexplainable occurrences that had happened while still at home came back to me.
I felt the joist at my feet move slightly, as if there were another standing on it with me, yet looking to the other end, I saw nothing. I looked down wondering if I could make the drop to the bottom by using the boxes as a landing before suddenly, I was in the grasp of something unseen. Hands, claws were on me, raking at my back as if trying to tear the coat from my body. That was when I caught site of the hideous face looking at me, its mouth wide open, its eyes black, inhuman, the skin colour indeterminable. The entity forced me to leap involuntarily from the joist before I went tumbling through the air toward what ever fate awaited me at the bottom.
I remember crashing down and onto the boxes which, with an almighty crash did indeed break my fall but must have sent an terrific indicator to the horrors of the night as to where I was. I only remember being surrounded by dark animal like figures surrounding me as I drifted in and out of consciousness after that. Although I was being surrounded by these unknown beings, I felt extremely sedate. I assume they picked me up, took me away to parts unknown because the next thing I remember is waking up in a large hall which I quickly recognised as the central alter of the grand cathedral.

What came next had happened all very quickly but I will try to explain. I awoke to see the various clergymen stood along the walls of the cathedral leading to the alter at the far end. But they too were akin to the locals. They had been changed, slightly different in form, but still with that same almost human appearance about them. I immediately sprung to my feet to look at the alter before shifting my gaze to the clergymen who now slowly began walking toward me. The light above seemed obscured now, then looking once more toward the alter, I saw the impossible. A figure, massive in size, awfully deformed, grotesque but still with the twisted human features about it. The nightmare being held a scythe with a blade as long as a man in one hand when it raised said weapon into the air, its gaze fixed on me. I darted directly toward the giant abomination and managed to evade its devastating attack by running between its legs. I had visited the church before and remembered there was a doorway at the far end at the alter that lead to somewhere. But I would be completely at the mercy of the corridor once inside because I didn’t know exactly where it terminated at. I had ran nonetheless and didn’t even look back as my eyes were intent on that doorway by the alter. I heard the giant let out a deep and monstrous roar before I made out the numerous footsteps of the clergymen now on my tail. I ran through the doorway which led me into a corridor plunged in darkness and its walls indistinguishable. I glanced back once to see the mass of clergymen cramming themselves through the doorway behind me, but after that something strange happened that I cannot understand.
I had kept running, and second by second, the noise from behind that I ran from, slowly became quieter. The pitch dark corridor ceased to have limits, there were no bends, no corners, and I quickly found that I could in fact, run in any direction for a sustained time without reaching any barriers. Had I reached a massive chamber invisible through the darkness? I don’t know, the floor beneath my feet was featureless, I felt nothing, no surface, no texture, no real way of telling what I was standing on. I called out through the strange darkness but my voice made no impression on the silence. So like any panicked person, I just kept running through the darkness hoping I would arrive somewhere. I’d then spotted a light to one side off in the distance. Dim but all too visible in the pure darkness I’d somehow arrived in. Getting closer, it was a small room, candle lit and with a chair and desk with all the proper utensils to write with. But once I approached this little haven, I soon realised there was no way out. When I had seen it from the outside, it were as if one of the walls were invisible, but now I am inside, there remains to be no doorway in or out of this room.
That is the room I have remained in ever since then, and an exit from this strange place continues to elude me. The room has a bed, a chair and a writing desk with paper and pens. So that is what I have done, I have written how I have become in this place. I know not if anyone will ever read this or indeed see me again, but maybe me writing this is what the unknown force at work here wants me to do. I can hear nothing beyond the finite confines of these walls, it is as if nothing else exists outside of them. Maybe I have once again crossed into or been transported to the Netherworld again, but unless a means of escape present itself, I may never know.
My pocket watch appears to have stopped which supports my theory that I may have indeed crossed into the Netherworld. Time has unusual properties here. I have been here for several hours at least, yet I feel not the least bit hungry, thirsty or tired as I usually would. Maybe I will try sleeping, maybe a dream within a dream can bring me from this place to somewhere else.
But there is that one name that keeps propagating itself in my mind, Hâg-Sollath.