This is the end for me. I am writing this, here in my Providence, Road Island home in candle light. They are coming for me. I do not have much time.
I see them passing my window every so often. I am terrified.
I should explain a little, perhaps.
I am a writer of short horror stories. I have a small following that gives me just a miniscule taste of fame thanks to my stories being published in a short story anthology magazine.
I write about monsters and gods from the cosmos. I write about insanity due to experiencing the unfathomable.
Ever since I was a child I have had dreams of these creatures. The most prominent being ugly faceless winged beats I dubbed Nightgaunts. I used these dreams in my writing.
They weren’t just dreams though. Oh god forgive me. They were not dreams. I am not a religious man, but god forgive me.
They are real, and they come for me. They made me a messenger, telling their tales. Making humankind aware of their existence, even if it only a sl