“And the only nightmare you will have.” He said. “You see, you can’t sleep because you fear what your mind might conjure. You’re defenseless against whatever may consume you in your dream state, but you’re talented Dan, you’re meant to see these great creatures of the abyss. I, for one, am a god, one who has lived way before your fragile human existence dared to exist. And there are those who still came before me, creatures of malignant force, creatures who have no form and that by simply looking at them anyone will grow mad.” He explained. “You have the ability to see them and the future Dan, with your nightmares and dreams. Ever since you were a kid.”
“Ever since?”
Flashbacks came to me in dozens. Memories, dark-shapen, mysteriously woven, entered my vision. He was right, there are creatures that exist, I have seen them when I was a kid, in that little town of ours. The Great Old Ones as they are named in our language. And the man in front of me was one of them.
“Nyarlathotep” I muttered.
“That is me.”
“Why me?”
“Because you are special.” He said with a malicious smile. “My disciples aren’t to be feared, you are to be feared.” He touched my forehead.
A memory of another life came into my vision, a memory in which I became a writer. I had a happy family, fame, money, purpose, every single thing I hoped for. Everything that I yearned for and didn’t have.
Tears streamed my eyes.
“Why?” I muttered. “Why!?” I shouted into the void.
“Isn’t that the most horrifying thing you have ever seen?” He said, pitying me. “And of all the other versions, you chose not to follow my gift, and apparently escaped my grasp.”
“You gave something to these versions of me?”
“I gave them a deal. To serve me and flourish.”
I looked at him with anger.
“Are you that man who approached me asking me to write again?” I asked.
“I was the man who led you to your school’s press. I was one of the newspaper columnists who paid you for your short stories, and yes I was the man who approached you asking you to write again.” He replied.
"And since I’m the one who escaped your grasp, you let me suffer.” I said while clenching my fists.
“Not suffer, but learn.”
“Learn what?”
“That no one escapes me.” He said. “But nonetheless, this is what makes you different. This is what makes you special. Instead of following just like the rest of them, you thought differently. But of course, if you accept me then I will change your course to become what you wanted.”
“Why do you still need me? You already have so much of me.”
“I need you to complete my puzzle.”
“What puzzle?”
“There’s something coming, something that has been lurking in between, consuming places.” He explained. “I will need all of you to be a part of an army.”
Something came into my mind. A vision. Visions of me being thrown into some kind of dark puddle and turning into abhorrent creatures.
Eternal suffering.
“Choose someone else.” I said. He laughed.
“I’m giving you a chance.” He threw his arms behind him and dark men came forth. They soon took form and they were all me. Grinning and malicious.
“You are the last piece of the puzzle and I will have you whether you like it or not.”
All versions of me started to run and that’s when I saw their deformities. Some of them had three eyes or more eyes, some of them had tentacular arms, some had no face but I knew they were still me.
I ran away as fast as I could. They screamed in unison, they shouted, calling me, telling me to come back. But I would not let them have me.
wouldn’t want a better life than this.”
“I don’t want to become a slave.” I muttered angrily.
“But surely you’re better off as slave than where you are right now.”
I kept quiet. I hear him chew and eat his steak.
“Can I go now?” I said.
“Of course, you’ve always been free to go.” He said. I stood up and started to walk away. “But I’ll keep in touch Dan. I always keep in touch.” I could feel his grin linger behind me.
I was shaking, I was lost. I felt desolated, abandoned. I felt confined, I felt desperate.
I didn't get any sleep that night.
I saw Kristoff the next morning, I told him everything.
“That’s crazy, man.” He said.
“I know.” I replied out of grief. “Do you believe me?” I asked.
“Of course.”
We kept quiet for a while.
“So I’m not going insane then?” I asked.
“Not in my diagnosis.” He replied and smiled. “You ever thought of writing it down?”
He grinned the same way, like all other versions of me did on that desolated moon.
I went home. My psychologist is no longer the man he was.
I knocked on Leslie’s door. She opened it directly. She greeted me and smiled. I hugged her and told her thank you. I felt her grinning behind my back.
I opened the door to my room and went inside. Leslie was clearly staring at me with a wide smile. A familiar smile. Leslie was no longer the woman she was.
I can’t help it. I can’t battle him anymore. As I said I wouldn’t be writing unless my life depended on it. Now it really did.
I haven’t written for a long time. Now, I write because Nyarlathotep recommended me to do so. He said that it helps with my sleeping pattern, because considering the fact that I don’t sleep much, I also have the need to dig up graves from my past.
I hear knocking on my doors, on my windows. I hear laughter, I hear myself talk of the better days.
I guess I’m doing this as a warning, to everyone out there.
There are things bigger than us, things that aim to corrupt us. And there’s something coming, something that has been lurking in between, and it will consume this place and other places that have been and will be.
But as I write this down, these thoughts do not bother me. Oblivion does not bother me. What bothers me, what I truly ask myself is: What have I become?
