The Horror In Time

Arthur's Letter - Part 1

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.