The Deprivation of my Sanity

Another take on the Shadow Over Innsmouth Lovecraft tale. Builds off of a previous story and adds much more detail.

3/07

Dear Katherine,

            It has been sixteen days since we parted. While you might say that these past sixteen days have progressed at a normal speed, to me it seems as if a whole lifetime has come and gone. In these two and a half weeks I have developed a large penchant for whiskey and hookers, and it is rapidly draining all remaining funds I have. I fear that I will not be able to escape this swirling whirlpool of depression, and that it will eventually cause my downfall.

            Yet there is more to this sinful hobby, for when I relieve myself of the nightwalker’s company, I find myself unable to lie down and find rest. Instead, I am constantly finding myself wandering around the city at night, observing, learning the ways of the people. They act differently than you and I; they seem to go through their lives without care and with much more freedom. When I return to my room to unsuccessfully try to sleep, my mind races with question after question, of how these people are able to live their life’s differently from you or I. Are we not capable of letting go and starting anew?

            The thought strikes again as memories of our childhood flash through my mind. Memories I do not remember having occurred. How I wish I could ask you what they mean, when they occurred, but alas, I find it hard to contact the dead. To be honest I have no real sense of why I addressed this letter to you, a person of importance in my life, but one that can no longer be of any help. I have plenty of friends I could reach out to, Jakob, Paul, even Antonio would leap bounds to help me in times of need and yet I write to you. Perhaps writing to you provides me some clarity, as I continue to blame myself for your loss.

            I’m beginning to feel the lack of sleep affecting my sanity, slowly starting to cripple my daily routines and functions. I yelled at our neighbor, Ms. Hudgens, the other day for attempting cook our cat for dinner. After calming down, it fell upon me that our “cat” was just a large turkey carcass, and I sincerely apologized for making a scene. How am I to continue living if I do not catch some sleep? Tonight, after I am finished writing, I intend to take a heavy dose of some sort of sleeping medication my psychologist has prescribed to me. While I have little hope that it will work, I must attempt to fix my problems before I degrade any farther.

            It is with this hefty note that I stop writing to you, my dear. I hope the day soon comes that I may sleep and dream of our once beautiful life together, before everything fell apart. Goodnight sweet Katherine.

 

 

3/13

Dear Katherine,

            Last night, after polishing off the last of the medication, I fell into a deep slumber. I slept for what felt like ages, but was merely a short and sweet 7 hours. I awoke to sunrise of a new day, one I felt ready to tackle with ambition and renewed faith. I have successfully dropped my habit of cheap w****s, yet the whiskey remains, the only thing capable of removing my mind from the pain of your loss.

            But it was not the day’s events that have me feeling intrigued and worried, it was my slumber. Yet again it was a memory of us as children, the age indiscernible to me, as well as the location. And yet we were petrified, running and screaming from some unseen monstrosity. When I turned back to gaze upon its form, all I saw was an empty blackness. It’s as if my mind is hiding some secret from me, one so terrible it threatens my withering sanity. I finally slept, but it has been three days since I attended my daily sessions with Dr. Killkana, and her voicemails are becoming more and more worrisome.

            She knows what kind of state my mind lies in, as do I, and yet I am embracing it. The more unclear my mind becomes the more of these childhood memories I unlock, and I wish to discover what lies beneath the blackness. What could possibly terrify us so much that neither of us remember it? How I wish we could sit here and discuss these memories, for we could discover, find out the truth behind them.

            While you’ve been away, many strange things have begun to occur around our quaint little town, most notably the disappearances of many travelers that choose the route near Innsmouth. While these disappearances do not affect me, I worry that they will discourage people from visiting our town, lowering business and draining my family’s hotel business away. There must be some way of investigating that I could attempt, maybe an inquiry into the station to see the exact circumstances of the disappearances that I could get the paper to post to soothe travelers minds.

            I must retire, as it seems as though I’ve begun to recover from my insomnia and can sleep regularly once again. I bid you farewell my sweet.

 

 

 

3/20

Dear Katherine,

            I am beginning to fear for my life dearly. Last I wrote I stated that I would inquire with the police, and after doing so, I went down towards Innsmouth, and observed the landscape around some of the disappearances. The atmosphere there was severely different, it felt as if a dark presence loomed over me the whole time, as if I was being carefully watched. I dared not to venture into the town itself, as from my view on the road above, it seemed dead. I saw no people walking the streets, no automobiles racing down the streets, not a sound came for the town’s direction.

            If that little venture wasn’t bad enough to deteriorate me from further investigation, I swear I’m being followed. Every little move I make feels like a step in the wrong direction. I have regained my insomnia, if only to stay awake and alert to spot any intruder into my home. I’ve contacted the police, but I fear they do not believe me… Who in their right mind would? Dr. Killkana stopped by a few days ago, wishing to speak with me, but I refused her entry, told her that it wasn’t safe, that I was being followed. She tried to reason with me, and even got me to grab the doorknob before I realized what I was doing. I quickly shrank back and screamed at her through the door using language I couldn’t even describe to you.

            The weirder thing is, Dr. Killkana has stopped calling. No one has called actually, no one has come to check on me, nor have the police questioned me. It feels like the good doctor has just disappeared, and I fear that I am still the cause. Whoever is watching me doesn’t want me speaking to anybody, and that one nagging thought is causing my mind to unravel at a rapid pace.

            The same memory replays each night, we run and scream, from some unseen horror, but more memories have been added. Do not try and tell me that these are merely dreams, some dreams may seem real, I know that much, but these are not. They are memories, memories feel different, you know they are true, you know that such an event has transpired. More and more of the memory is being revealed, and I wonder what will happen when the day comes that all the pieces fit together and create a film.

            I now know that whatever we are running from chases us into a cave or hollow of sorts, and when we finally recover and begin to trek down into the cave, we find a group of hooded men, chanting words that chill my spine at the thought. I’m not even sure if they can be called words, as they do not sound like they are from any language found around the world, they sound demonic at heart, and these men, chanted them over and over. Even after discovering that they had been discovered by two children, the chanting continued, we were waved off without second thought.  

            I feel as though I am still missing more to this, that these men, this cave, they are only the beginning to what happened, to us and the missing travelers. Hopefully I will be able to write more, my darling Katherine.

 

 

 

3/24

Katherine,

            There is no question of my sanity now, I have gone insane. Since last I wrote, I stocked up and food and water, then proceeded to barricade myself indoors. I will have no further interaction with the outside world and will continue to piece together this horrid memory of mine. The cat has disappeared, and I fear it is I that have caused its demise. I remember eating the past few days, yet my stock of food has not changed, which leads me to believe I have eaten poor Moose.

            The night of barricading, I slept. I know not if I crave sleep, I wish for it so I may discover more to my memory, and hate it for the same reason. I have developed an obsession, one that will kill me I have no doubt. The question is will it be worth it? Who is to say that upon my death someone will find and read these letters, letters I address to my dead wife?

I’ve done a few bits of digging from my house, utilizing the internet to my best abilities to dig up anything surrounding the town of Innsmouth. The last time someone made a fuss about the town, a reporter I believe, he ended up raising a fuss about demons and such, things that any sane man would disregard, but I am not a sane man anymore. This man was locked up for his heretic speech, posting such ridiculous ideas and stories that all his credit was thrown out the window, but there is one piece that scares me to my very core. After visiting the town, he was followed by its inhabitants. The people of Innsmouth continually watched, traced his every move, every conversation. This is no mere coincidence, these people are watching me.

This is made even more frightening with the revelation that these memories, of us running, of us finding chanting men, they occur within Innsmouth. I believe I remember the very beginning of our frightening tale, it was a vacation, one I elected to bring you with me, my best friend. We were to visit my uncle on words that his final days were upon him. Something happened in his house Katherine, something so terrible I have erased it from my mind.

Since that night I have been unable to find solace in rest. No sleep has come to me as my mind races over everything. Innsmouth, why had it always been within reach yet we never visited it. I believe it is because deep within the recesses of our minds we knew never to return. I fear to finally understand everything that I will have to venture there, in search of the final answers to the puzzle.

 

 

 

 

3/26

Katherine,

            Two days. So much has transpired. I have slept and discovered the monstrosity that chases us. The truth shocks me more than I care to admit and yet the break in and robbery of the house concerns me more. Two days have developed the final course and destiny of my life. I must go to Innsmouth, I must find answers. I know now that I was correct upon my assumption about being followed by the towns people, they have left me note upon relieving me of all my food and water.

            Short and sweet, the thought of the note sends immense amounts of fear and paranoia into my mind. There were only three words scribbled onto the note, left upon my short stack of letters to you. These people know me, know me so well that they knew that three words would bring me to their town. Three f*****g words. “We have answers”. All I can see in my mind are those three damn words.

            With my memory of the event finally complete, I wonder if there is more that my mind has suppressed, as well as if everything in my life has truly occurred. Did my parents really die or did the people of Innsmouth take them from me. What we were running from was a monster, it was the most ungodly thing my eyes have ever glanced.

We entered my Uncle’s house, with his neighbors patiently awaiting our arrival. They informed us of my Uncle’s passing earlier in the day, and as my mother dropped to her knees sobbing, we continued through the house, exploring. I had never met my Uncle, and news of his passing did nothing to phase either you or I. We gazed around inside the house, in awe of it’s pure beauty and size.

Before we knew it, we found ourselves inside his bedroom. Uncle Fredrick, keeping his Irish name with pride, lay before us upon his bed, his body covered with blankets. I wondered why his body would be covered, I had not seen this in movies, people always gazed upon their loved ones after they’d passed.

Reaching for the blankets I hear my mother screaming at me from the hallway, her eyes full of fear and terror, but I pay no attention, I wish to see my Uncle for the first and final time. As the blanket tears off his face, what appears is not the face of a human being. It is of some fish being, and as my curious grin turns to a face full of terror, this thing, grasps my arm and looks me in the eyes. I stumble back in fear as you turn and bolt through the house.

The monster, my Uncle, begins to rise from his bed. Before he can grab me once more, I follow you, some unknown power enabling me to run faster than ever before. I catch up to you, gasping for air and yet releasing it through vile screams. I turn my head back towards the house, and see it coming out, heading right for us. We scream louder, which seemed to anger it as it begins to run after us.

We scan the backyard, looking for somewhere we’ll be safe, even if momentarily when you spot a hole, too small for it to fit through yet big enough for us. We scuttle towards it, using our last bit of energy to climb down without injury into the cave. Uncle Fredrick peers through, mutters something, again in that same unknown language, and leaves us.

I know not what we have seen, but I know who has the answers. I must leave to Innsmouth right away, and yet I am unsure of whether to bring these letters I have written you or not. The more I think about it, the more it seems as if the choice doesn’t matter. They know everything about me, I can do nothing to stop them. They did not take them in the robbery so they serve no use, whoever discovers these will think them the scribbles of some crazed man’s final days, and they will be correct.

Goodbye sweet Katherine, I feel as if I will join you shortly.

 

 

 

3/28

My Dearest Katherine,

            I have so many questions for you now. My first day at Innsmouth, I spoke not a single word. The people did not speak a word to me either. They simply showed me to a room at their inn, and handed me a letter, addressed directly to me. My name written out in your handwriting. I stared at the letter for hours before I dared to hold it. There was no mistaking it, you had written this letter, and soon my curiosity achieved the upper hand and I opened it.

            Your letter to me has been the single most shock of my whole life. Now I feel the whole weight of your death upon me, for I caused such tragedy to your mind that you felt the need to end it all. You hid the signs well, although I knew you were always having trouble sleeping so I suspected nothing of it when you became more and more restless. You went through the same process I did, and yet instead of trying to pursue answers after discovering the truth of my uncle, you chose to end it all. You left me a note to try and reveal everything to me to what end? What do you think I could’ve possibly done different?

            This is the last night I have, I can feel it. I have no quarrel with that. I know not what will come of me, but that this life is over. I received a note a few minutes ago instructing me that in twenty minutes, men will come and take me down to the same caves I’ve been remembering. The note said my eyes would finally be opened, that my life will finally begin. I think I am to become one with the town of Innsmouth. In this town there is a constant sound, uttered by all the townsfolk. It is the same chant we heard back then, it has not changed. The only thing to change is those that utter it, as I believe more villagers have passed on.

            To whoever finds these letters, wherever they may be found, beware of Innsmouth. The town, the villagers, they are pure evil. They may not look it, they may not act it, but it is in their core. This town should be destroyed if possible, and yet I think it impossible. These people, this town will forever be, and the people of the world must learn to never enter into it. This city keeps you, and if you leave they will drag you back. I wish I could leave this world as you did, but they are here. Goodbye my sweetest Katherine, my one and only. I never meant to harm you.