Ai! Cthulhu F’thag’n: Proof at last
At last, the proof I had long sought. For nigh on fifteen years I had been filled with the determination to rebuff those critics who had poured scorn on my theories and beliefs. I recall the silence that filled the lecture theatre. So-called professionals from all fields, eager not to applaud but to jeer and laugh at my lifetime’s work on that fateful day. I had entered that auditorium buoyed by my discoveries, sure and certain that the remaining doubts of my peers would fall like cataracts from their eyes and they would join with me to study how to defeat this unnameable evil.
Alas, it was not to be.
Silence, then one question, then another. Each one a tiny wound, a knifeslash against my studies. “Is this all the so-called proof you have?”, “Does anyone credible substantiate your claims?”. Then the most damning question of all; “Where is the photographic evidence?”. So many times I had stood at the gates of temple neither built nor worshipped within by man. So many times I had opportune to study the texts that yet still lie in forbidden libraries. So many occasions my dreams – not dream, but visions – had flooded with an unreality more true than reality itself. Yet they ask for so-called proof in a two dimensional image. The fools! Just two dimensions are insufficient to hold what may be four or five dimensions of reality. For long I have believed that the photographic plate itself will rebel at the notion and the chemicals themselves react in opposition to such a concept.
Yet proof they demand, and proof I determined to provide for them. I had traversed the world seeking that very truth, armed no longer with my notebook and sketches but with a camera. I studied and mastered the techniques of development and formulated my own processes to process images in the harshest of conditions. It was small comfort that I became celebrated in the photographic sciences for this research yet was still ridiculed in my own field of study.
Such deep irony that I had crossed jungles still uncharted and vast deserts where even the native tribes feared to tread. I had discovered ruins built upon remnants of civilisations more ancient than mankind itself. Those books and those photographs were not taken as proof, but found themselves sidelined with the crank pseudo-scientific ephemera of the age. Yet more irony that I found more kinship in the writings of Von Daniken than with those who should be my equals. Yet the proof – the final proof, if that is what they wish – rose before me one late afternoon returning home after a modest book signing in my local town.
As I drove, I saw the sun’s rays glimmer of something moving and writhing in the afternoon heat. Much like a dog stretching and relishing the sun, this thing rose from the ground and flicked once, twice again then curled, basking in the glows of a sun an equal age to itself. A monstrous tentacle, identical in every way to those in the most ancient Mexican carvings, clear out of he ground here in a small Derbyshire town in full view of nearby houses and – of all things – a children’s playground! I stood, amazed that I heard no shouts and screams from the houses at the sight of this horror, and other cars passed by, unaware of the unhallowed creature that must lay just metres below the surface of this peaceful vista. I recalled the words an old Greek sage once uttered to me as he recounted the now forbidden rites of those tiny islands; “The eye will not see what the mind does not comprehend.”
My mind lay open, willing and all too painfully aware of what lay curled in my presence. Other could not – would not – see it, and passed on by, it’s huge monstrous form a blind spot in their vision. I ran back to the car, and grabbed my ever present camera, taking shot upon shot, praying that It cannot sense my footfalls upon the ground. Proof, indeed!
At last, it straightened and lowered into the ground with the setting sun, leaving only turned earth to mark where it rested. I was safe to return to the car. Still shaking with both fear and excitement, I returned home.
With raising and sinking heartbeats, the film developed, flawlessly. Each image, perfectly representing that which I long knew existed, humanity’s greatest and oldest threat. At last, they will take me seriously and we can study together how to respond to these eon-old beings who care as little for us as we do to ants. For that is both our destruction and our blessing; were these ancient beings to come to know of us, we would be snuffed out in an instant, as carelessly as we would snuff out a fly on a windowpane.
My pictures lay before me. This journal is almost complete; I see a movement through the door – probably a child from a nearby apartment. I will investigate, then telephone the Royal Society to present my findings to the world.
Editor’s note: This was the last journal entry discovered on the professor’s computer. That telephone call was never made. His photographs I have taken the liberty of uploading here. Form your own opinions.