Book of the Dead

Epilogue

Matt walked slowly across the quadrangle of Miskatonic University’s grounds. Tucked under his arm was a prize that was beyond value — the Book. It was both a curse and a salvation for the human race.

Abdul Alhazred, the Mad Arab poet of Damascus, had been shown insights into the world that could have been, and, even though it had cost him his life, he had written down the strange symbols and words, and then ensured those words remained safe for when they would next be needed.

Where those thoughts and words originally came from was a mystery. Perhaps there were other great beings, Elder Gods, less inclined to destroy and consume life than the more odious things that slumbered somewhere deep beneath our feet.

And now, it was Matt’s responsibility to keep it safe. The original Book could never be taken back to the library of Alexandria, but it still needed to be hidden away in a repository — somewhere secure, and off the beaten path. He knew just the place. He had learned that the “ole Misk”, the Miskatonic University, had a deep vault below its old science lab.

It was strange: the university, though a prestigious one, would not have been his first choice for storage of something so valuable and, without doubt, critical to the survival of the human race. But it was if the Book had decided for itself, guiding and then compelling him to bring it here. Perhaps to be hidden away and forgotten for another thirteen hundred years.

Just touching the strange leather of its cover caused images of the abominations to swirl like mad dervishes in his mind, along with the passages in Syriac, Ancient Greek, and Arabic. There were also the symbols of the first angels, though they were now impenetrable to him. He knew he would never be fully free of them until he performed one last duty.

Matt entered the university’s stationery shop, selecting the most expensive vellum paper he could find and a fountain pen. He needed to write, to add in their battle, and how they managed to push back the Old One. He had to quickly get it down, tell the story of Cthulhu, the Shoggoths, and the other abominations. And he needed to include his own warning, before his mind was blank to it all.

He smiled as he pushed out of the store, making the small bell tinkle overhead. He headed to the Miskatonic vaults, but first he needed to find a place to write.

“Maybe one day they’ll refer to me as the Mad American — Mad Matt.” He grinned and turned his face to the sky, catching a ray of sun on his face. Overhead a bird circled, and as he watched, another joined it, and then another.

As he passed across the campus a small cloud of birds formed above him… following.