Entry: Night October 9, 1927

The events to describe the remainder of the day can only be considered horrifying. They only led to more questions than answers…

We walked to the public house for lunch. It seemed to be left over Irish stew from the night before but still tasted good despite Steve’s protest. While waiting, we asked Ken if he knew where Sheriff Ballard was. He informed us that he should be at his office in Town hall. After finishing up, we quickly headed over. Ballard, a large man, was standing behind a desk reviewing some paperwork. But, before I could introduce myself as a representative of Miskatonic, the young and impetuous Dr. O’Riley started to barrage the poor man with questions and recommendations for Mr. Walker. He did not care for it. I finally got Steve to be quiet and introduced myself. The birds were the first subject the sheriff brought up but I managed to turn the conversation towards Prescott Walker. We needed to get into the mansion so I could look for the manuscripts but required a legitimate reason for being there. Offering to help the man and planting the idea of radiation sickness, gave us all the reasoning we needed to be offered an escort to the manor.

The manor was empty when we arrived. Muddy boot and bare footprints went everywhere. The stench of rot floated in the air. Discarded food littered the area. While the others searched the lower level, I went upstairs to the library. It had been ransacked. Books and papers where scattered all over the room. After a few minutes the others joined me. Shortly afterwards is when we discovered the journal.

Walker described wandering into Fulton’s Ridge, an area rich in radium according to Ballard, and finding an amulet. There was an absence of life around him. Walker went into detail describing the stone as an item of power from a time when the Abenaki ruled this land. He went on to draw a picture of the amulet, depicting a totem of a crow over the totems of a snake and frog. This took James by surprise because it was the image he saw in his drug induced dream. Prescott, also, detailed his delusions of controlling crows and other creatures.

Ballard seemed a bit unnerved with it all. This was the perfect opportunity manipulate him into helping. Since we had discussed earlier how the crows slept at night, we convinced him to take us to Fulton’s Ridge after dark. He, also, was easily convinced that the stone was radioactive even though none of us could actually prove it.  

Upon leaving the manor, we were struck by what my comrades perceived to be a very unsettling sight. Millions of frogs surrounded the area. The noise was deafening. However, the only thing that filled my thoughts was the fried frog legs I ate on childhood vacations to the southern Gulf States. After regaining his composure, Ballard remembered some lead tiles in the shed for city hall. Kicking the amphibians out of our way, we made it to the shed and quickly made a lead lined box out of things just lying around. However, when we came out they were gone and the crows had returned. This even bothered me a bit but I had to put it aside.

                     

I then headed to the Library. Dorice had found the manuscripts and an old black leather bound book. The manuscripts provided little in new information. It was a handwritten record of early explorers entering the barren area above Fulton’s Ridge and the area was filled with loud buzzing. The other book, however, turned out to be the true find. Thaumaturgical Prodigies in the New England Canaan was written by Rev. Nathaniel-Ward Phillips from Dunwich. The book itself describes terrible rituals which took place in New England. The young pastor’s quest for knowledge led him to follow a man who knew not the forces that they truly battled. The two men conducted a witch hunt in the streets of Dunwich and Arkham. The end describes a confrontation in Billington’s Woods with a man in tattered yellow robes that almost killed them. Phillips wrote that every night he still dreamed of that monster sitting and waiting for the day he would encounter him again. After publication, Phillips had a change of heart and tried to acquire all copies of the book and burn them.

After studying for a few minutes, I knew I had to have this book. After several attempts to obtain the tome, James and I faked a call to the school and managed to talk Dorice into selling it to us for fifty dollars. It wasn’t my proudest moment, but I walked out with knowledge that will prove to be invaluable in the future. This is the original edition. I believe the school could have a second printing, as I believe it is commonly found.

After storing my new found treasure, we headed for a quick dinner. During this time James managed to finally get an offer from Kenneth to be served in the “private room” later on. Unfortunately for him, Ballard showed up to take us out.

It didn’t take long to reach the outskirts of the area and we headed the rest of the way on foot. As we entered the ridge, we began to hear the buzzing described in the historical manuscripts. Suddenly, Walker burst from the woods screaming for us to leave. The shock was a bit much for poor James. Steve quickly went on the attack trying to subdue the man but he proved to be a bit much for the young doctor. Jack stood at the ready to shoot him but we needed to avoid that as best as possible. I tackled Prescott and thought I had taken the upper hand in the fight. I was wrong. Walker spun around in my grapple and bit into my face. I released him and he ran into the woods so fast we could barely tell the direction he headed.

Steve patched up my face to the point that the scarring would be at a minimum. Then he mixed another one of his special cocktails to give Prescott. Jack had already picked up the trail and we headed off again. The buzzing sound grew louder as we got closer to the Barrens near the ridge. It was here that things got strange. The buzzing grew louder and then we saw it. Something out of our worst nightmares floated above our heads. It resembled a bloated mutated fly with a long metal rod. Poor James lost his mind upon seeing it. The rest of us just started shooting. The beast followed in kind but instead of bullets, lighting bolts stuck the ground around us. Steve had disappeared in the confusion and we all focused on killing the beast. It seems that God was on our side that day because many of our shoots stuck the creature. The fly turned and flew over the ridge out of sight. I ran after it. The mysteries I could unravel from it would grant me unprecedented opportunities at the university.

Topping the ridge, I passed the body of Steve. I had no time to worry about him now. I could hear the others running behind me so I left him to their care. I cannot describe fully what I saw on the other side. More of the creatures were in the center of the valley working with a machine that lit up the night sky. Nothing mattered anymore. I had to get a sample for the school. I am not sure but it looked like Walker was charging down the opposite hill followed by an army of what appeared to be vermin. I started to fire at the fly again and began to close the gap. That was when everything exploded in a flash light. When I regained my sight, they were gone. Ballard and the others came up behind me. I don’t know what they saw and I don’t want to ask. One thing was certain, Steve had lost his mind now, as well. The man ran past me in a fit of rage and shot Prescott in the knee. It severed it in one shot. That was when sanity hit him in the face. At least he saved Walker’s life by halting the bleeding. We, also, removed the stone from around his neck and tossed it in the lead box. As so as we get back to the school, we need to give it to Lucas to hide in the vault. Tetlow will insure that no one will be poisoned by the amulet again.

When we got back to town, dawn was breaking. However, something had changed. The crows were gone. Ballard thanked us as he packed Prescott up and drove him to the city hospital.

Even writing this, I am still in a daze. What were those things? Where did they go so fast? My mind is in a jumble. To add to the confusion, Armitage has summoned us all for a meeting. I am going to read the tome I acquired and get some sleep. I will need to be well rested to deal with tomorrow.

Poetic Double Feature

"The Last Ritual"

from Dreams from R'lyeh

By: Wilbur Nathaniel Hoag (1921-1944)

composed from letters found in

Manuscripts Collection of Miskatonic University

Edited by: Lin Carter

The night he died the Demon Star was high.

It hung above the house against the dark

A cold, arcane, malign and watching spark

Like some green, burning and Cycloptic eye.

They locked me in my room, but I could see

My Uncle take down that abhorrent book

At whose mad page I was forbade to look,

Gorstadt's grim volume of Necrolatry.

I heard them chanting (they had closed the blind),

And smelled some burning reek ophidian . . .

Then all was silence . . . till the screams began.

At dawn the neighbors broke the door, to find

Jones gibbering and mad. Uncle was dead.

They found his body. All except the head.

"The Library"

When I was young they never let me look
Into that room kept under lock and key,
But when he died my Uncle left to me
His strange collection. Almost every book
Was old and crumbling, curiously bound
In serpent skin, and with a rotten meat smell
As of some tainted and abandoned well,
Or some dead thing long buried underground.

I looked in one. And, though my blood ran cold,
I read it, page by page. The nightwind blew
About the eaves, and when red morning rolled
Up from the east, I finished. And I knew
Those old, old books were not meant to be read
By sane men. They were better burnt instead.

A Poetic Interlude

"The Old Wood"

from Dreams from R'lyeh

By: Wilbur Nathaniel Hoag (1921-1944)

composed from letters found in

Manuscripts Collection of Miskatonic University

Edited by: Lin Carter

Northwards from Arkham up along the coast,

The ancient woods that climb the hills around

Grow oddly thick for such unhealthy ground.

And on the hill-tops, where they grow the most,

All seemed deformed and strangely overgrown

As if their roots, deep down within the earth,

Fed on the rank putrescence of some Birth

Malformed and monstrous, and best left unknown.

Even the grass grows mouldy, and a smell

Hangs in the air as though something was dead,

While bloated fungi spread their stench as well.

I asked my Uncle's servant once. He said,

"Sure, I can tell ye" - would he not had talked!

"- That is the Wood where once the Black Goat walked."

Entry: midday October 9, 1927

We started the day without rehashing the horrible events of the night. There is no reason to ever mention it out loud again.

We decided to skip breakfast and head straight out. The first stop was Devereux's taxidermist shop. He had been mentioned in the article about the attack and maybe had some insight on the birds. He doesn't seem to be the most pleasant of people but was more than eager to sell James a stuffed crow. Why he wanted it I don't know because it is painfully obvious that the birds outside are much bigger than his. He did show a lot of disdain for others in town. It seems that he is not a fan of the Sheriff or the Mcphee's. I forgot to note earlier that Kenneth is the brother of the mayor. When we asked about Prescott Walker, he said he had not seen him in over a week. Marshall had not even heard about what happened at the public house.

After his purchase, James decided to buy binoculars but he didn't have any.  We were directed to stop by Maude's store. That would have to wait. So we made a quick trip to the house and dropped off the bird and headed for the library.

It was an old house. The place was surprisingly well stocked and had a collection of old papers that rivaled my own. I quickly introduced myself as Dr. Pendergapp and asked the librarian if she had historical books and records for the town. She hopped to work right away. I wanted more information about the founding families of the town and the Abenaki. Unfortunately, she could not located the old manuscripts she remembered seeing. The librarian said it could have been in the manor. Since this was the old Walker house, I figure she means the Walker Manor. I must find those manuscripts. Plus, I need to ask someone later what the woman's name was. I was a bit overwhelmed on how nice the place was.

Next, we headed to the store. At the counter was a healthy woman, that turned out to be Marshall Devereux's wife. She was more than happy to supply James with an expensive pair of binoculars. When asked about the crows, she did not have much to say. She assumed it was some type of disaster, like the blizzard last May. I questioned her about this but she seemed to think it was some freak occurrence and wasn't all that important. I think after lunch I will go back and read up on this at the library. I don't understand why it didn't make the city news. It shouldn't have happened. After we left, I think Jack chimed in finally wondering how long the sawmill had been closed. Not a bad idea to follow up. He seems lost in thought ever since we got here and doesn't say much. I wonder what's wrong?

Entry: early am October 9, 1927

That was the most insane thing I have ever witnessed. The screaming turned out to be James. It seems that our friend is prone to night terrors. Steve quickly had him draw what he saw. Shrinks have the strangest ideas. But, since James is an artist I figured it would be interesting. What he gave us was something that looked like crows with many different swirling colors over a strange formation.

But here is where it got really strange, Steve decided to mix a concoction of what I would have thought to be lethal. He had the idea to make a more vivid dream for poor James. My doubts in him continue to grow. I can see him becoming extremely dangerous just to satisfy his own needs to push the boundaries of his field. After a hour of tense waiting, James stabilized and seemed to be dreaming in his comatose state. This is highly irregular for someone in his condition. After some more time passed, Steve woke James. I was amazed by this and surprized that he didn't kill him. However, it did yield some results.

He described seeing crows, frogs, and snakes. The crow seemed to hold power over the others. He, also, mentioned the shape of the crow seemed more like a craving. Could this be a totem? I need to find out more about the tribe that once lived here. It all seems like native occultism. I think it is time to pay the local library a visit in the morning.

I need to get some sleep before the morning breaks....

Entry: October 8, 1927

It has been a long day. We checked into Ballard's Boarding House for the week a few hours ago. Mrs. Ballard was little forthcoming with any new information about the bird attacks. She did seem bothered still by the fact the victims ran out with no notice. We did get directed to Mcphee's Public House for a hot meal. All in all she seems to be a quiet and pleasant lady.

Mcphee's was a busy and crowded place. I hate places like this. Kenneth Mcphee, the proprietor, took our orders himself. The stew was not half bad. James noticed something that resembled a trap door. He seems to think it is a booze room. He could be right because Kenneth called himself a bartender but quickly changed it to restaurant host when he realized his slip. Overall, he did not seem to like us much. I think it could have been James constant questions about the birds. He did seem to lighten up a touch when James took a jab at our prohibition laws.

One other bit of information that James overheard was that a wild homeless looking person ran into the bar screaming about staying out of the woods. When he asked Mcphee, we found out that it was Prescott Walker. He is the owner of the sawmill and his family is one of the oldest in town. We are going to to check in on him later now. He could be the clue of finding about the birds. Also, Ken added that the birds were not around before the sawmill closed. The noise must have keep them away. We should check on this.

On the subject of the birds, they are everywhere. They are large and vicious looking but we have not been attacked yet. I was a bit nervous about walking in the dark back to the lodgings but it went with no incident. Now to get some sleep

Dear God someone is screaming.......

Entry: October 7, 1927

Today revealed a small treasure of information about Bethlehem at the library. It turns out that the little town is the Hay fever relief center of New England. Also, it was called Lloyd's Hill at one time but I can find no reason for the name change. I have, also, found a topographical map and an US Geological Survey Map of the area. It seems as though besides having a high iron content in the soil, there is also a strong presence of Radium. This leads to the luminescence of some of the local areas.

As for the tribes that lived in the area, I have found some information on the Abenaki. This is a dead tribe that once lived in the Bethlehem area. Some of their legends speak of an area of bad medicine. I wonder if this is the radiated areas with high concentrations of radium. It will be worth checking out if I can find some of these spots. Funny thing about the Abenaki is that they were stone workers living in an area of radioactive stones. I wonder if that had some kind of hand in their extinction, besides any Pox cover blankets they may have been given.

Better get some rest need to pack in the morning and then several hours on the road.

Entry: October 6, 1927

We leave for New Hampshire in two days. I reread the article and decided to check out the story of the attack. For this, I have decided to employ James. He seems to be the type of person that is a slick fast talker and can get people to loose their lips a little better than others can. After several calls, I managed to dredge up the telephone number of Adrian Ferrell. It was him, his fiance, and several other friends that were attacked. The called turned out to reveal nothing new. We may need to go see them in person. I will hold off on that for now but maybe swing thru after the trip. Better get a map of Boston...
On a side note, I need to find out more about this little town. I think tomorrow I will swarm the library for everything I can find. Hopefully, Dr. Landford won't see me poking around in the historical document section. If Dr. Armitage does, maybe I will finally tell him what I think about him and his oppressive policies on shared knowledge.

Entry: October 1, 1927

I guess this is what I always wanted. Jack, the man that befriended me at the gun range has invited me to travel with him and his roommate, James. I do know James somewhat, as he is a student of mine. The problem is he has no willpower to focus on his education. My guess is that he spends 90 percent of his time enjoying himself and the young ladies he spends so much time with.

This lends to the fact that somehow the young Dr. Steve is coming with us. I believe they are up to no good but I can't confront Steve with this. As I have noted in the past, we share the same gym and he is an admirable fighter. My guess is that if I called him out on his questionable practices, I would receive the walloping of a lifetime. It would be very hard to read and teach with two swollen eyes and a broken nose.

Regardless, they are heading to Bethlehem, New Hampshire. I recalled a fascinating story I read in the Boston Globe about the abnormal behavior of the local crow population. It seems as though some young couples were attacked on the outskirts of town.

This trip is a great excuse of relieving myself of Dr. Armitage's incessant nagging about me conducting my research courses in the library.