The Memoirs of Harold Campbell

It is with trembling hands and a thunderously beating heart I write my memoirs this night. For the maddening horror I have bore witness to has shook me to my very centre and laid bare my fragile soul.

We spend our entire lives believing that we are alone in our own lonely plane of existence. No heaven, no Hell. Only our own finite lives, and the long agonising ticking of the biological clock.

The reason for my melodramatic outburst will be known to the world soon. Wether they believe the scribbling of a madman. I know what I saw. I will seldom forget it. Nor will I seldom recover from it. This is the end for me I fear. Either death or insanity will take me away.

I can hardly recall the finer details of a most hideously malformed beast, only the feelings and terror it awoke in me. I fear too detailed a recollection would be the undoing of my fragile sanity. I am still in a state of confusion as to what I saw. My perception of the event is now coming into question. Did I truly see? Are these wild phantasms a figment of my mind's unravelling?

I digress, for reality or fantasy, I must remember the evening. For when my fear leaves me, I simply must understand.

I was pondering over an elderly tome of mythological tales. I was captivated by the mighty fables. My mind filled with the sounds of battle, images of warriors and gods standing tall. So engorged on these tales of wonder, I failed to hear the door of my study open. I rise from my desk to come face-to-face with a demon.

A man of science, I scoffed at zealots preaching to the sky with promise of eternal serenity in heaven. That night, it was not heaven that held my gaze. I looked into eyes as red as hellfire. The pupils shone red behind a sickly yellow; never looking away the creature bore it's hatred into me. A great weight bowed my shoulders and trembled my knees. Exasperated, I fell back into my chair and beheld the red demon standing tall over me. Shadowing my small, crumpled figure against the lamplight.

Horns twisted and curled behind pointed ears. Red skin perspired and gave off a black steam from the creature, as though it had brought the void itself with it. A tail gently stroked walls and bookcases exploring this foreign domain.

The demon spoke to me then, it's voice booming through the small room. A voice that raced my heart at each syllable, chilled my soul with each letter exaggerated.

"Farewell happy fields, where joy forever dwells: Hail horrors, hail."

At this my mind went as my body had already. A cloud of sickness engulfed my senses as my frantic mind collapsed under the intensity of something beyond comprehension. Consciousness was no longer apparent.

I woke to the sunlight illuminating specks of dust through my study window. The morrow decended onto me, as did the memory of the horrific encounter.

Now writing this, my mind is clouded over with questions. What, why and how are all I can envision in my head. The beast was evil that much is clear. I felt it positively freeze my very soul when it appeared before me. A malicious and unholy presence with I cannot begin to comprehend, should my mind turn to madness. One thing has been made very clear to me now, the monster I bore witness will not stop at a brief appearance and a cryptic decree of evil intent. This being of unimaginable blasphemy has only just begun.