The Case Of The Shadow Over The Whisperer In The Asylum Of Madness
My mind is a maelstrom of conflicting emotions; ecstasy, doubt, and fear are all struggling for the supremacy of my conscience. I’m jotting down these few disjointed words, with my last remaining breath, while the flickering light of a waning candle projects whimsical and grotesque shadows on the stone walls around me. There’s some hope left.
Recent events at Senscape have shaken the foundation of our beliefs and grasped knowledge, bringing us closer to terrifying perspectives of reality and ushering in a new dark age of unguessed horrors. I reluctantly raise my sight to gaze upon the blasphemous vistas through the stained windows, and I cow back in disgust. Somehow, the sinister shadows crawling in the back corner of this desolate room, as if they were sentient creatures from unhallowed spheres of existence, are more welcoming than the skyey voids injected in blood hovering outside this accursed asylum. No… maybe there’s no hope.
But I must still find the right words to communicate these news to our backers, for they change everything. Our project is reaching levels of unutterable dread, a quality that was never even remotely fathomed during our humble inception. A dilemma of far-reaching consequences has been haunting my nightmares and my pulse trembles as I come to realize that this decision has already been made. May the Black Goat of the Woods have mercy on our souls, and the souls of those who willingly demanded we unleash unknown terrors upon them. I can feel it coming… You fools! You just don’t realize it yet! Gusts of charnel winds howling outside bring nefarious news from forsaken lands, and a looming darkness above me prefaces the impending doom. I know now… it is hopeless.
The secret is out. I need more time to elaborate in its intricacies, yet the indescribable entity known as Riggo hailing from the farthest maggoty undergrounds of evil stalks my every move. I’m not sure how to appease the fury of this hulking menace and the thousands of voices begging for more, pounding in my head, anxious to revel in the decaying and execrable corridors of this ungodly place, prowling, creeping, screaming… N’gha! Eehye nglui… Next week… will reveal more… just please… No! NO! Black-beard—slithering appendages—unimaginable dimensions—Riggo save me! Vugtlagln mglw’nafh phlegeth! Vulgtm! VULG—