I’m coming back… starting to think straight, but the images, the eyes…. in my mind… Nobody knows. They couldn’t know, when they called upon it, when they read the book, how could they know? I didn’t know. So old, older than old. Older than the universe, but different.
The sounds, the piping, orbs of color, but not color, malice. Evil. Darkness. Tekeli li, Tekeli li.
Feel nauseous, but at least I can feel… still can’t think, can’t think can’t dream. Dreams are there, I dream about it, about seeing it, about feeling it.
They never knew. They opened the book but they never knew. They never saw – they didn’t see what made the sounds, they didn’t see the gate and the truth of the gate.
Yog-Sothoth is not a merciful god, but we are insignificant, less than ants. But if it were to notice us… if it were to… Can’t think of that, can’t. Head spinning, feeling nauseous again. Need to lie down.
They didn’t know. They didn’t know and they read the book and they spilled blood. So much blood. And it noticed them. And it noticed me.
Yog-Sothoth is the gate.