Upon this dreary night I sit, my figure strained almost as much as my voice. It rains with the sore of spite from my continued existence- that is, the green hued downpour that sweeps away all which is evidence towards the crime the stars have committed on our small town of Fe'riea. Though my skin fair and athleticism fairer, the wind upon which I rode back to my abode was unnatural even for my pursuers of- what I have to assume is cosmic descent. As you read my words, hollowed and hallowed, realize the truth behind every dark corner, every cry from the cold, and every attuned dissonance.
I awoke on a brisk morning in 1963, starting my day in the usual procession. Each morning was always the same; our little town of Fe'riea was naught if not local. Usually the largest piece of "news" we'd ever see was a rabid dog being spotted near the cavernous mountains we had dug out for access to the main road. My grand-father, Llewyn Gnawgrave, was a master architect and constructionist. He began a project in late 1920, digging with his few manned crew through an entire mountain which is locally known a Winter's Peak. The other side of the blustery crag was the only path leading to the main city of Arterok, of which held all our trading resources. I am fortunate- as are my neighbors and working contemporaries are, that the path was carved before our time. Reportedly, or at least as he told me, it took around four years in a universal calendar. A little forward in time, near forty years later, it's still our only road to livelihood. I began the three-mile trek to the path as any of us would. A bright, sunny day with no visible clouds and just enough a chill to let the working man be comfortable outside and the children to frolic. I had a job in a small metal working facility, testing the quality of product produced, whereas most of the job was waiting around for something to happen in whilst the metal finished heating. This led me to begin reading and looking into lesser known literature, including local mysteries, occultism, the works. Dredging up local papers and supposed "monster" sightings proved quite entertaining for the long days after shipments came in. Besides, my small microcosm of peers proved rather dull, showing animus towards my more lavish lifestyle all thanks in part to my family's long standing reputation and birthmark. My name is Silas Gnawgrave, a twenty-one year old male living just as though any else would, however I bear the mark of the Gnawgrave family- my left eye has a queer scratch looking discoloration running 70* down my face. Thanks to my grandfather's efforts, all who bear this birthmark are thought of in slightly higher esteem. Truthfully, I've never appreciated the idea of a circumstance providing a higher standing, though I will say it has certainly had it's moments. Day in, day out, we came and went from the Great City. Each day proving to be slightly more boring than the last. Well, that was how it used to be... I awoke a brisk morning in fall of 1963 to the grand cacophony of birds singing their divine yet ephemeral tune, going out to check the papers- as per usual. I awaited for what seemed forever at the marvelous tunnel, alert for my fellow working men. Only this day it was different. Despite the ostentatious foreign air that our town had always known, not a peep from the residents of the small township were heard. I stood, like an apple tree waiting to bear fruit, only to be met with the same feeling the farmer of said tree might have during a harsh winter; melancholy. The bell chimed twice, sure enough it were nine o' clock. I initiate my march to the city only to end up seeing Fe'riea on the other side. Shocked, I took a shambling step backwards. Perhaps I was subconsciously thinking of the bizarre event with our villagers and made a quick turnaround..? After observing Fe'riea once more, deciding it had still looked just as though it did no more than five minutes ago, I commenced my movement back around to the Great City. This time, I got to the other side as expected, the Great City there and bustling with people as it always was. To my knowledge, everything was just as normal as it was the day before. I curse and scathe myself for such false hope! I returned from my menial job, fatigued with the same dull stain of time upon my weary eyelids. As I prepare to lay for bed, I couldn't help but think about the fact that I was seemingly the only man who decided to complete my day to day tasks. After assuming all positioning and fixing my bed covers, I inexplicably walked out the door, simply out of desire to know what their reasoning was. I knocked on the door of my good friend and fellow metallurgist Ms. Hundsdi. She came to the door, normal as ever. I asked her about the recent situation of no one showing, peculiarly, she told me with all the honesty and sanctity that *I* was the one who didn't show up. Aghast- I admit I stumbled my words, slightly offended that I would be so detached from life. She assured me that I must've just slept in or dreamed I had preformed my humdrum job. This woke something within me. A primal feeling which even now the nature of which I can not explain. You've felt it, too. Unknowingly- the primeval desire to find the unexplainable, learn that which no eyes have peered. I issue one warning to those of you which feel this way: stop. Stop while you're far, far ahead. The things I've seen and what has happened the last week of my life was not worth any reputation or status of power. I awoke the next morning with a bitter taste in my mouth which was residual from the conversation I had last night. Though I'd known Ms. Hundsdi since we were both children, she had never shown such aggressiveness, even to her abusive father. This morning, the air was much colder with clouds chewing the sky into naught but a dim grey specter. I arose from my murky abode, complacent with the autumn's chill. I was one of those bizarre-folk, who enjoyed the cold much more than the heat, Perhaps it was getting older, whereas kids may enjoy being doused with irrigated water and searing in the suns hot gaze. As I initiated my walk to the communal tunnel, once more no one had arrived. This time, I rejected the notion that I was the loose screw, opting to leave back into town and confront the neighbors on this matter. I found it more strange, beyond that which was already abnormal of this serendipitous morning, that even the children were staying inside. I arrived once more at Ms. Hundsdi's house, knocking with such feverish force you'd think a twister had bore through the small town, only... She never came. I looked up and down throughout the many angles I could achieve on the house's lawn, yet to no avail. I tried peering into the windows but the sheers had been yanked shut, tight as always. She always sunk her teeth into that which was superstitious, believing heavily in what were usually native beliefs. Of all people in the town, she was the only one not photographed due to the illogical fear that pictures would steal your soul. I went next door to Mr. & Mss. Lire's. Once more, I began battering the door with a barrage of blows. Silence. Nor Grayson nor Doleres came to the door. Not even their children, whom I usually had a slight distaste for as the reminded me of my youth, shone through the door. I accepted that maybe the had just gone somewhere, not believing in conspiracy. As I walk back to the tunnel, I scratched my leg on a passing thorn. I began walking with a slight limp in no part for pain, rather to keep it from bleeding. I arrived at the tunnel and took one look back, solely in disbelief of the new phenomenon. To my surprise, the back window of Ms. Hundsdi's house- which I had just checked, was now slightly ajar. The clock chimed twice. Nine o' clock. I had no time to investigate the now alien looking window. As I arrived at my job, I questioned those with a reasonable amount of conspiratorial knowledge. The usually callous men had become enamored with my tale, despite the fact that nearly twenty-four hours prior we hadn't but muttered whispers towards each other in vain of forming a conversation. As though we had just spoke for the first time. I'll never forget it, the look on Mr. Dorvsin's face when I told him of my recent predicament. A mix of shock, horror, and something I can only describe as whimsy took ahold of his usually indifferent and apathetic look. "Have you seen the white wolf?" He asked with such quick wit and return I could only assume it was from his favorite book. I carefully talked with him about this mythical figure that he suggested was a signal of a similar sounding event, one which he found in a forbidden book in the Great City's library. Of course, I had seen no such being, instead I merely described my circumstance to him. His glowing eyes faded slowly back into naught but the dim grey they always were. That was, until we were leaving. On the way out, as I hung my uniform onto the checkered stone wall, he arrived in front of me with a more serious look of pure scrutiny. He warned me "If you see that wolf, leave. Come to the town and call me. I'll rusticate it for you." I agreed to these terms on the premise that I would not see a fake varmint. I traveled my way back into Fe'riea, wind at my heels with the oncoming winter. Once more I shew myself at Ms. Hundsdi's. I listened feverishly as she came to the door at my knocking. While I would love to say it was a nice visit, something was clearly inaccurate. Her story of myself being- once more- the only one not to appear was starting to eat away at my conscious. This was the night I decided there was no better way to test my current theory than self ruin. I stayed awake, rooted deep into the twilight of Fe'riea beautiful night sky. The clock chimed once. Five o' clock. I walked outdoors into the now bizarrely cold autumn night, the leaves pouring like water out of the trees. I stood at the tunnel, awaiting to see if merely the hours of work had been mixed up, whether the town-folk were taking vacations... Silence. In fact, there was nothing more than pure, irrevocable silence in the night. This was the kind of silence no words can describe. The town was all but- for lack of a better word- dead. The fires for light were glowing dimly, the houses dark with anticipation for the next morning. I lingered in front of this tunnel all morning, making sure to not fall asleep even if for a minute. After what felt like an eternity, the clock chimed twice. Nine o' clock. I thought with utmost enthusiasm "This is it, surely they'll be spilling into the streets now." And despite all my optimism... Silence. I walked back into the town with fervent steps. "I had not seen anyone leave and therefore they must be sleeping in!" I thought to myself with confidence unrivaled. The door to Ms. Hundsdi's house was inviting me to enquire, so I did. Silence. Naught but pure Silence. I was fed up with this constant bizarre occurrence obstructing my everyday life- and so I did something less than favorable. I smashed a window in a fit of rage. With much regret spilling from my now watery eyes, I clomb through the window in the most careful act I've ever performed. Now inside the house, I searched high and low for Ms. Hundsdi... Silence. Her bed was empty, the kitchen clean, the bathroom gave me nothing but a sickening feeling that I was encroaching on some else's territory. As I lumbered down the stairs from checking the attic, I turned to leave the currently empty abode. While the town was still as empty as ever, I marched with surmounting shame of my actions to the road. As I reached the tunnel, once more I looked back, this time, however, something was different. As I scanned the grim horizon, I saw a sharp red eye staring at me through Ms. Hundsdi's house. As I focused on it, the being quickly snapped the sheers shut in a monstrous force. Part of me wanted to see what was happening, while the rational part of me couldn't stomach another dire thought. I went to work and informed Mr. Dorvsin of the eye from the window, much to his ire. It began a heavy downpour during this day at work, another sign he told me of the coming creature. He granted me a compendium of local mystery and folk-lore, which I would begin studying that night. He told me in a bleak, booming voice to leave the town if the creature was seen. I began to believe his delusions... Silence. My arrival at the town was met with stares from everyone who occupied the small town. The concerning fact for me was that Ms. Hundsdi was nowhere to be seen. I went to her house once more... Silence. Everyone in town was in view of my naked eye, yet she still was not there. I turned away when suddenly the door went ajar. Heaving with nerves overtaking my body, thinking of the restless eye through the window, I opened the door cautiously. There she was, plain as day talking to me with that particular blend of low German accent. I couldn't believe my eyes, for when she turned around to face me I noticed one glaring flaw of her design: her left eye was now a bright, animalistic looking red slit. Through the muffling terror of my brain wrapping itself around that which is impossible, I realized a startling revelation: I've been staring at the creature for the last ten minutes of delirium. The horror that Brian had warned me of was now staring me in the eye, talking in perfect tone as Ms. Hundsdi. I grappled with my thoughts and managed to bolt out the door, it now pouring outside with the weight of thousand tons. I ran to the tunnel, only to see the town had once more vanished, leaving only a red eye staring through my belittled soul. The air was thick and heavy with the smell of rotting leaves, the rain beating down on the earth in such a violent manner. I ran into the tunnel as Brian had told me to. I reached the town only to be met with the same Silence. As I walked into our job site, the remaining manager told me that I belonged to a mental ward! That I was demented and crazy! That damned fool. If only he knew, my one wish before I pass is for him to acquire these papers and realize the torment I've been through. With no other place to go and the police now being signaled to my supposed insanity, I solemnly went back to the town. I settled in my bed with every light I could find on at full power, hoping to stave off the dire fiend which stalked my final days. I slept for no more than ten minutes that night, for I awoke with the harsh sound of more rain. I lay in my bed frightened of the unspeakable act that has been haunting me for the last week, until... Noise. Loud, harsh noise. The clock chimed twice. Nine o' clock. With all caution I had stored in my fraying consciousness, I muster my way outside. The rain had become more intense, with either my ears heightening or nerves taking over, everything was louder than gunfire. I saw the entire town going into the tunnel and yelled out for them with force coming from the most primal of desperation. They turned, seemed to stare in bewilderment and began running into the tunnel. I ran down the many hills to the tunnel, abrading my legs with many a bloody scar. I reached the other side of the tunnel only to see Fe'riea. I ran back to the other side faster than those a triathlon: Fe'riea. I couldn't believe my eyes. Two more times I ran back and forth only to find the same town over and over. Finally, with all resolve lost, a final attempt proved fruitful. I rain down to Brian, only to be met with a cold, motionless stare. He looked me dead in the eyes and with nary a peep I could tell something was deathly wrong. I hadn't realized it, but the sky was now a green-ish hue. The air filled with a disgusting stench of pure decay and rot. I left outside, glaring down the street. The Great City was no more than empty shells of houses, battered and destroyed by some unknown force. The entire City was in the roads, staring in my direction. Before long they all began walking towards me- their footsteps drowned out by the endless rain pouring that never seemed to pool. First was Ms. Hundsdi, or rather, the pale imitation. Her eyes were practically popping out of her skull, blood red with blood pouring down her face, she lunged first, opting to try and attack my current cordial behavior. With all the might I had left I marched away from the hundreds of imitations walking towards me, each one of their faces a uniquely bizarre construct. The smell of blight only got worse upon my return to the tunnel. When I dared to set foot back to the town, I looked behind to see a creature of pure guttural nature. The being made of grafted body parts from the villagers and towns-folk. I faltered, falling to my knees at the sight of the Thing. It spoke to me somehow, through it's many mouths- though, speech is a loose term for something of this nature. From what I can hardly peace together, it sounded like it was screaming for the sun. It bore down on me, it's blood red eye, featuring what looked like a scratch down both sides, burned onto the skin of those who were inside this foul beast. Above it's eyes, there was a small part on the crest of it's head with two letters scorched into the foul thing: "L.G." With each movement of it's mouth, more vile black and green substance released, it's odor enough to make the average person instantly vomit. The trees on each side of the road died when the Thing passed them, something I didn't even consider in Fe'riea. It was early autumn, the leaves could not be rotting! I managed to pull myself back up and slowly back away from the creature. Walking into the tunnel served to only infuriate the beast with the worst kind of irritation. I began running at such a speed that not even I knew I could achieve. With each moment I ran, the barreling footsteps of the Beast followed so closely behind it made my head churn. I arrived back in the town, getting into my house before ever even checking behind me. As I sit here, hours later, watching the green rain still pouring... I can only assume the Beast is waiting for me outside my door. I write these words not as a memoir, I write these words as my death note. I know it's out there, dripping it's green substance, staring at me with it's giant red eyes. And so, Upon this dreary night I sit in my deathbed, my figure strained almost as much as my voice. It rains with the sore of spite from my continued existence- that is, the green hued downpour that sweeps away all which is evidence towards the crime the stars have committed on our small town of Fe'riea. Whatever may become of me, I urge you, the reader, to leave this town. Leave, and never look back. ~Silas Gnawgrave
On the day of September 23nd, 1963, a search-party was sent to the town Fe'riea to find the reasoning behind the workforce no longer arriving on scheduled times. The search party found everyone in their homes, citing that they heard a wolf's cry during the heavy rain two days before. When the search party arrived at the house designated 21, there was no response. Upon breaking down the door, they found a badly damaged wooden marionette with the initials "S.G." carved into it's chest. The legs had deep scratches cut into them with what looked like burn marks. Upon the eyes of the puppet were two burn marks, running 70* inward on both eyes.