The Journal of Howard Phillips

August 8th, 1927

I had a quite interesting occurrence today. As I made my way down Ridge Street, I was approached by an odd looking fellow. He was small in stature, and seemingly frantic. He called out to me, though I'd never seen him before in my life, and made me an offer. He pulled out a most peculiar book from his briefcase, bound in what I can only assume is pig leather. It appears to be written in a language neither myself or my colleague recognize. Needless to say, my curiosity was peaked. I offered to purchase the book, but rather, the man simply handed it over. He seemed all to eager to be rid of it, but who am I to judge a man for what he wishes to possess? For now, the book sits next to me on my writing desk. I'll go to the library tomorrow to see if I can find any more information on it. For now, however, I retire for the evening.

August 9th, 1927

The most peculiar thing happened last night. I awoke from my slumber in the latest hours of the night, and I could have sworn I heard a faint whispering within my room. I suppose I must have been coming out of a dream, as it ceased the instant I sat up. The events of the day before must be on my mind still. It was a most interesting encounter, after all.

My trip to the library revealed nothing. The librarian was as befuddled by this strange book as I am. They did, however, tell me of a professor they knew who worked at the university. Perhaps tomorrow I will pay them a visit, and find out more about this book and it's contents.

August 10th, 1927

Once more have I awoken in the dead of night, and once more have I made note of something most strange. I could have sworn that there was a face in peering through my window, but again I am sure it was just a dream. There is no way any man could peer in through the second story of my home.

My trip to the university was also mostly unsuccessful. The professor was able to note that the book was quite old, but they too had no insight as to the language or illustrations within. Perhaps this is nothing more than the manuscript of a madman, which would very much explain why the fellow from the days prior was so eager to be rid of it. Still, I find myself oddly attached. I'll simply have to make sense of it on my own.

August 12th, 1927

The past two nights I have awoken, much in the same fashion as before. Each night, faces appear in my window. They stare at me from afar, yet nothing is there when I approach. I am fearful. I have began locking all my doors, simply to be certain that no one can get in. I do not know what these miscreants want with me.

I had taken time to further study the book this evening, as the night before I was quite busy with social obligations. I noticed a small signature, though it was quiet faded. While the name itself was nearly illegible, I could make out the letters Ab and Al. Perhaps I'll take the time to return to the library. It is my hope that I will be able to cross reference these letters with the names of known authors. I am all but determined to shine some light on this strange text and unravel the mysteries held within. There is more to this book than meets the eye, of this I am sure.

August 13th, 1927

I awoke in the night once more. It was not to faces or whispers this time, but rather I awoke from a nightmare. I was staring off into the deepest black I had ever seen, seemingly for hours on end. I was enveloped by dread, and a most threatening voice bellowed from within my own mind. It spoke a single word: "Embrace". Over and over, growing from a faint whisper to the loudest sound I had ever heard. Upon the final bellow the great voice, I awoke with a shrill cry. I was relieved to find myself in my chambers, but I did notice the book was laying on the floor. Perhaps it falling is what woke me up. I must not have placed it properly on my desk before retiring for the night. When I went to place it back on my desk, I had noticed something most peculiar within. Illustrations lined one of the many pages within. They were of beings the likes of which I had never seen. They looked as if they were otherworldly, but surely such things could not exist. After this, I could not sleep. At least the rest of the night was uneventful.

The second trip to the library was uneventful as well. Nothing I found matched the penmanship or language of my book, and I fear I will never know who wrote it or where it came from.

August 16th, 1927

Every night I have dreamt the same dream. Every night I awake to that accursed book on the floor. Every night the book has landed on the very same page. It's taunting me. It hates me for not knowing what it has to say, and as such it screams to me. It wants me to embrace it, but I refuse. I had found an add in the paper. They're searching for a new keeper for the lighthouse. I'll leave all my things, this city, and that horrid book behind. I'll start fresh. No more voices, no more dreams, no more faces, no more whispers. I'll leave everything behind.

August 17th, 1927

My trip to the coast went well. The change of scenery is already putting my mind at ease, and the advertisers were most happy to find a new keeper. I suppose this is my life now. Secluded to a tower on a small island. Guiding ships to the harbor, and making sure they avoid certain doom. Everything is calm and quiet, minus the sounds of the sea. That accursed book is far from me now. I am sure I will be safe here.

August 18th, 1927

Tonight marks the first full night's rest I've had in weeks, and saying I'm thankful for it would be an understatement. The crashing of waves on the rocks surrounding me is a most soothing sound. I had feared yesterday that I had perhaps been too hasty in my decisions, but I know now that this was the right call.

August 20th, 1927

I traveled to the harbor this morning to check with the postmaster and get supplies. Much to my surprise, I had gotten an unmarked parcel. Upon returning to the lighthouse, I opened the package. I was struck with terror upon seeing what was inside, for within the parcel was none other than that accursed book! The devil seems fit to take me, but much to his dismay, I will resist. I took the book to the top of the lighthouse, then cast it out into the sea. I swear at that moment I heard the sea itself groan, as if a great beast had let out its unearthly cry. I will make the choice not to concern myself with it. The deed is done, and the book is gone. I will not be seeing it any longer.

August 21st, 1927

Today there was a storm unlike any I had seen. The winds and rain seemed to pound upon the walls, and the electricity in the lighthouse was rendered all but useless. Perhaps my mind is playing tricks on me once more, but I could swear to you that I had seen something most disturbing far out on the horizon. Far out to sea, I could swear there was a tentacled beast rising out of the waves. It's silhouette somehow darker than the pitch black skies before me. I took a moment to rub my eyes in disbelief, not sure of what I was seeing. After having done so, however, the apparition was gone. I fear I'm losing grip on my own mind. Now, being so secluded, I have no way of getting help. God forgive me, I know not what I have done.

August 22nd, 1927

I had the dream again, the voice louder now than before. There is no sign of that accursed book, but the storm from the day prior as persisted. I will not embrace it. I will not be taken into whatever madness awaits me. I swear to you I see the apparition from before with every strike of lightning. Ever watching me from afar. When I spoke to the folk at the harbor about it, they thought me mad. There is nothing out on the horizon. Only the seemingly endless sea. Perhaps they are correct. Perhaps I am mad. Even now, the ever bellowing voice screaming to embrace echoes through my mind.

August, 1927

I have not left the lighthouse in days. I don't even know the date, or if it's even still the month of August. Food is running low, and I am terrified. All I hear is to embrace, drowning out even my own thoughts. Even now, I find it difficult to write. I only want to be one with the sea.

MCMXXVII

Amplexum. Amplexum. Amplexum. Amplexum. Amplexum. Amplexum. Fieri unum ex tenebris tenet animam tuam valere non potest. Vetera recognituros revertetur.