They speak to me, those that dwell in the darkness. Their message was unclear at first, but now I am beginning to understand. They speak of the Watcher of Worlds, Behalah. It is the name of the thing that they worship. I can hear them, chattering away, and the longer I listen to the clicking and chewing of their voices, the more I can understand.
And with understanding comes freedom. Not the kind of freedom one would expect, but the freedom to know and understand that man, in all his elegant and destructive glory, is nothing. We are but collections of bone, tissue, and blood, and one day we will be nothing. But Behalah, the Terrible One, the Destroyer of Worlds, it (if Behalah can really be defined as an “it”) shall live on into the eternities.

It is only my place to live out my time on this sphere. To worship the Beast in it’s manifestation in this place. I saw one of them. Last night, I was trying to sleep, and I heard them, the faceless, speaking to me from the darkness. I strained my ears to listen, and understand them, and in the darkness I saw them, moving, writhing, wrapping around each other in orgiastic ecstasy. I hope they will come again to me tonight. Where once I was afraid, now I yearn for them to come to me, like a lover yearns for their mate.