The Temple of Dagon

The Man from Ṣan‘ā’

These mangled writings are the last thing that you will ever hear from me. I am writing this under utter despair, these are the events that unfolded several days ago, the ones that have lead to my demise.

I remember first moving into this place, I was so excited, I had finally found a home, where the stresses would all slip away, where I could relax and forget about the pain. The area was a peaceful place, low crime rate, and friendly people. One person though was odd. He was a very distant man; he was always in his apartment, which was above me. He appeared to be from the Middle East, probably a doctor or scholar. The few times that he actually ventured out of his apartment, he would never speak, show emotion, or make eye contact. He was short, hunched over, and had a grim, perplexed face, as if constantly brooding. As the days passed, his condition deteriorated, bruises and sores appeared on his skin. His hair had turned completely grey; his skin became a sick, green color.

The complex became deserted; I didn’t recall seeing anyone move out, I guessed that they were all busy at work, or sick. Horrible visions came to me that night; I cannot describe what I saw, because it was utter madness. I cannot speak to even you about what I saw; it would surely drive you insane. I woke up screaming, trying to escape some abomination from my own insane nightmares. Then I heard the first sounds outside ever since last week. It was a scraping noise, followed by several other strange noises that were coming from the upstairs wing. I doubt that an animal could have found its way through the city, but something strange was going on upstairs.

The next morning I decided to find one of my neighbors, Alessandro Borrellio, and ask him if he had heard those strange noises. His door was unlocked, his apartment empty despite a bed and a small table. A piece of paper, with strange writing was on the table, it was in English, but the paper was mangled almost beyond recognition, he must have scribbled it in a hurry. I took it back to my apartment to try to decipher it. The only words that I could get out of it, and I will try to do my best with the spelling, were: “filtering down from the stars”, “Alhazred”, and “Al Azif”. I did not realize that I had been staring at the paper, thinking about those words for several hours. My mind was absolutely exhausted, the words continued to plague my consciousness, my nightmares became more horrible.

The nightmare that I had that night is impossible to describe. It was horrible beyond all concepts, worse than madness; a madman would at least be oblivious to the fear, to those things in the stars. I saw the things that were lurking in the shadows, I saw the ancient evil, I saw the Mad Arab known as Alhazred, I saw those terrors that lurked in our dreams, I saw the black planets of the abyss rolling without aim, and the things that filtered down from the stars. A sudden feeling of helplessness came over me; there was nothing that I could do to escape my fate. A quick death would be better than the unimaginable that would happen, or the insanity that would ensue if I encountered such beings. If I had told someone besides you, I would surely be deemed insane, and placed into an asylum. There those horrific things could find me, and I would be helpless. I woke up standing on the roof, staring at the night sky. It was a strange color; stars filled the sky, millions of them. I must have been the only one seeing this horrifying spectacle.



A distant hum surrounded me; it was coming from one of the apartments downstairs. It was the strange man’s apartment. The strange sound filled my head, my body started to go down the ladder, towards his apartment, I tried to stop myself, but my body kept moving despite my mental efforts. I stood at the front door of his apartment wondering what horrors lurked behind the rusted door. The sound dissipated slowly as I entered the blasted place. Odd books were lying on the floor, all in languages that I couldn’t read, the ones that I could interpret read “Cthaat Aquadingen, Cultes des Goules, The King in Yellow, and Unaussprechlichen Kulten.” I could only guess what these horrible tomes contained, probably the ramblings of madmen, and the scribbles of gibbering lunatics. Symbols and runes were on the walls and ceiling of the apartment, there was no furniture that I could see only books, pieces of paper, and those strange symbols.

A red glow was emanating from the only door in his apartment. I slowly opened the door, and I regret doing it. What I saw past that door, I cannot describe to you in words or speak about. The writing that you have just read has harmed me enough. Those horrors that I dreamed about and saw past that door are in the shadows. The shadows move and follow me. Underneath the buildings and crawlspaces I see the blasted things watch me. I hear the voices in my head calling out to me. I will now jump from the roof of this horrible place, and escape the lurking terrors that have been hunting me constantly ever since I saw the cursed man. You may think that I am insane, and I hope that I am, so that the things that I have seen are all false

Second draft of the "Yellow Sound" which I wrote at the end of class in like 5 minutes, It has double space on the word doc, I guess it doesnt work when you copy it over to this . Enjoy, don't be too harsh, Grazie.

The Yellow Sound

That book…that color…that sound……where did it all come from? Did it come from the book? Yes, it must have come from the book. I remember reading that book I can’t think of the title, but I remember that I had found it in a bookstore. I thought it was strange that the old bookstore was empty. There were hundreds of ancient books, some in languages that I couldn’t read. The one that stood out though, was a thin book with a cover of yellow. I should have never entered that place. As soon as I picked up that accursed thing, I started to read it. Then I realized that I had been standing there for hours. I can’t tell you what was in those pages. It was pure insanity; I severely doubt that a sane man, let alone a human, wrote that despicable book. Ignorance is sometimes a blessing because there are things we should never read, some knowledge we should just ignore. It is a blessing that we are so stupid and thick, but our insatiable desire for knowledge often drives us to dark, strange places.

After reading that book, I found myself doing strange things and waking up in strange places. I would fall asleep in my bed, but wake up outside, standing in the lawn looking up at the night sky. I acquired a distinct fear of the color yellow-yes, the color yellow. Whenever I would see that color, I would shudder. At night, I saw things move in the corners of my eyes, things in the shadows, strange thoughts in my dreams. I remember hearing that ringing sound one day while I was staring out the window. I found myself concentrating harder on that sound, and then I heard them. I heard a distant whisper it sounded like it was far away, and I couldn’t recognize what that person or thing was saying. I tried several other times, but I could never hear those words clearly. I should be glad that I didn’t.

I didn’t sleep at all that night; I kept hearing those whispers. That morning is when it first started to happen; it had somehow gotten inside the house. At first, it was only a slight smell coming from the corner of the house, but as the day passed, it became worse. I can barely describe it; it was like a mix of rotting corpses, sewage, and something else. I tried to walk into the kitchen, but it was unbearable. Then that sound….that strange sound came from the corner. I looked into the room with several scarves and ear muffs to block out the sound and smell. It seemed like something was moving in the wallpaper on the corner wall. It was just a slight movement. Whatever it was must have not sensed my presence. I shudder whenever I try to imagine what it was.

Somehow I managed to get out of the house, even though my vision started to blur severely. It must have been that strange combination of sound and smell. I should have stayed inside, or at least gone upstairs. I am going to have trouble describing what I saw in its entirety as it would be impossible to understand. Everything, the walls of buildings, trees, the ground, leaves were all “bleeding” a yellow color. It was everywhere; it was steadily making its way to my house, which was worse? That stuff outside or the sound and smell inside? I rushed upstairs to my room. I barricaded the door with some furniture, but I knew that if it could get up the stairs, it would eventually seep through, and then I don’t even want to imagine what would happen. I moved my bed to block the window so that whatever it was couldn’t get inside from there. Then I heard that thud-that horrible thud downstairs. I sat and deliberated for several minutes. The sound and smell had dissipated. For some reason I decided to walk downstairs. I can’t explain it. I wasn’t thinking. I somehow went downstairs, and then I saw that thing. It was in that hole downstairs. It was like acid, that yellow ooze. The door had the center of it melted away. I saw a hand moving beyond the hole. Once again, I rushed upstairs, but this time I knew that something was coming for me. It was downstairs in the kitchen.

“Andrew, I think you could use some rest, nurse, please escort him back to his bed.”
“God, that color…that sound……that hand……didn’t the police find that hole? How could they have missed it? How could you have missed that color, all of the yellow, look outside, look, you can see that despicable ooze everywhere.”
“Andrew, please. Resisting treatment will just make it worse. I don’t want to hurt you.”
“Kill me, kill me so those things can’t get me. Please God, please. That Yellow Sound…That Yellow color...”