Tuesday, July 3, 2007

Over the Brink Pt.1 "Misinterpretation"

I have long posited the creation of a Lovecraftian comic book, but the withered claws that I dare call hands though nimble and lithe on a keyboard or fretboard can trace only crude impressions onto any piece of palp. I can't draw. But other people can. Particularly this fellow, with whom I am corroborating on this project. But since I am clueless to the nature of comic book writing, I will merely write, and let my better part interpret the story as he will. This is the first of at least three parts I plan to post this week. This is the slow build-up all Lovecraft stuff seems to have before demons start popping out of the anus of hell like metamucil infused turds. Enjoy.

Journal Entry, September 5th, 1933
Dr. Michael Edwards
A quite peculiar subject was admitted to the ward today. Though most come dragged screaming through the threshold by family members, exhausted of the wild ramblings and disparate behavior of a now intolerable loved one, this particular individual came only escorted by a plump black suitcase, dripping sleeves and socks over the lobby's floor. Dressed impeccably with vest, tie, formal pants, and shoes that would not be out of place on a dance floor, he was a welcome sight when most come clad in naught but their night ware. The only things out of order were an absence of a coat or hat, and the presence a disheveled shirt, with sleeves rolled past the elbow and collar loosely buttoned. Though he seemed malnourished, with eyes resting in deep purple circles, his slim frame was held tight and his face was still soft with youth. The secretary was alarmed when he revealed that he was not visiting some poor cracked relative, but rather checking himself in for treatment. His eloquence, humor, and candor spoke not of some wild mental deviant but of a sophisticate whose manners were toned by the heavy etiquette of New England aristocracy. When pressed on why such a well adjusted man would seek sanctuary in the loony bin, he simply stated that, 'we all have demons that we're trying to outrun; I'm just trying to throw mine off the scent'. Such an interesting case. I cannot wait to interview this subject for my records.

Journal Entry, September 8th, 1933
Dr. Michael Edwards
What a fascinating case indeed! I was not disappointed by his account. Yes, he hailed from New England, a fine upper crust gentleman whose wise understanding of investment saved him from the poverty that has stricken so many in these times. A Mr. Ashley Eire, his interest in the sciences and of discovery had led him to quite the number of queer encounters in his life. A collector of books and wild theories, his library had outgrown his house by the time he was 18. He briefly attended college before finding work with a defense company, specializing in abstract and unique ordinance. Just past his mid twenties, he tells me he will turn 28 in December. Though I continually pressed him on why exactly he has institutionalized himself, he seems reticent to say more besides having 'grim misgivings' about the future. I told him such simple therapy would be better suited to a psychiatrist than an institution, but he insisted that only 'this place is safe' enough for his residence. This will certainly be an interesting case to see develop! For lack of any apparent aberrations in his personality, he has been assigned to the lowest level ward.

Journal Entry, September 9th, 1933
Dr. Michael Edwards
Upon trifling through his possessions, the nurses stumbled upon a myriad of abnormal items, not the least of which was a book transcribed in foreich symbols and riddled with apocryphal geometries and baleful illustrations. Another was a silver pocket watch containing a picture of a negro woman and a frayed map, covered in vague notations and chronicling some sort of subterranean system. Also found was a note book filled with various culinary recipes and critiques of local cuisine. The last one, being dated a mere month ago, praised a Gumbo stew mixed with alligator meat. My, my, this man is certainly an eclectic collector of the absurd and the occult!

Journal Entry, September 20th, 1933
Dr. Michael Edwards
Though Mr. Eire is consistently reminded of his freedom to leave at anytime, he persists in the facility, a darling of the staff and a friend to the nurses. He's even assisted them in subduing a rather rabid occupant, who was stopped before he could thrust a spoon into his nasal cavity. What a refreshing change of pace it is to have a cooperative and interesting individual in my care.

Journal Entry, October 1st, 1933
Dr. Michael Edwards
Couldn't help but flip through Mr. Eire's intriguing book. Upon closer examination, it appears the first few chapters, if they can even be called chapters, are translated into English text found hastily written in the margin. I could not stomach the illustrations, depicting graphic horrors I am unfamiliar with even in my nightmares, but the story seems to describe some ancient terror being brought to life by a wayward soul. How cliché. Though I question his taste in literature, one cannot doubt his ability in chess! He has already bested the junior doctors, and is swiftly working his way up the competitive latter. Perhaps I will get the honor to try my skills against him soon enough.

Journal Entry, October 5th, 1933
Dr. Michael Edwards
I am seriously pushing the limits of my authority, but my curiosity could not be helped! I was returning the book to the stack of Mr. Eire possessions, when the pocket watch slipped from the box and fell to the ground. Upon ensuring that no damage had come to it, I noticed the picture had slipped partway from the frame. After removing the picture, to verify that it had not been tarnished in anyway, I noticed a strange engraving behind where it had sat. It was a symbol of some kind, a series of rays leading to a central circle. And on the back of the picture, written in pencil, were the words 'I will be the light in your darkness'. What possible connotations could this have? Did this man, seemingly upstanding and intelligent, have dalliances with a negro woman? Then indeed, he has chosen rightly to bring himself here. Sexual confusion is difficult to admit to, particularly miscegenation. I shall broach possible treatment to Mr. Eire in his one month review on the 8th. At least he has avoided the perversity of the sodomite, but there is serious work to be done.

Journal Entry, October 7th, 1933
Dr. Michael Edwards
The nurses have reported that Mr. Eire has not slept since he has submitted himself for care. Obvious subconscious guilt over his violation of natural law. But now that we have the symptom we can treat the disease, and I'm sure Mr. Eire will sleep easy knowing we have diagnosed the source of his unrest.



The Calm Before the Storm! Oh snap! What will happen next? Will shit go crazy up in this bitch? Will there be detailed descriptions of octopus impregnation? Probably! Find out for sure in the next installement of 'Channeling Lovecraft: Over the Brink'!

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