My colleagues, Professor Francis Morgan and Professor Warren Rice were having a conversation about the goings on in Dunwich. Professor Morgan has some very interesting views about what might be the cause of the damages we’ve been seeing. He will be live tweeting our journey for prosperity at @Francis_Morgan_.
Professor Francis Morgan is an archaeologist as well as a professor of medicine. He and I disagree on many points in our normal rhetoric but we are both agreed that whatever is going on in Dunwich is no coincidence. I have explained to him what I know about the Whateley’s.
The source of my curiosity is Wilbur Whateley. Wilbur is a bit of a legend around Dunwich. He was born to Lavinia Whateley, a strange, less than attractive albino woman. There was no father in the home. For that matter, there was never a husband seen or heard from for Lavinia. Her father, ‘Wizard Whately’, as he was known, simply announced that Lavinia had married but no one ever saw any evidence of it. Then came Wilbur.
The Whateley’s are an odd bunch. They’re an old family in Dunwich that dates back before the Salem trials. For all her lack of color, Lavinia delivered a baby with dark hair and yellowish skin. He was not a handsome baby nor did he grow to be a handsome young man. The first of many odd things I noted about Wilbur was, however, the way he did grow. By the age of three months he was as big as any child of one or so years of age. By age four he had the size and appearance of a teenage boy complete with burgeoning facial hair and a rapidly deepening voice. It was not normal I tell you! Nothing about the Whateley clan is normal.
‘Wizard’ Whateley got his name from the strange incantations he would perform using the books in his vast collection of strange and rare copies. His books filled the Whateley manor and the smell of their rotting filled the air. Many of the books were inherited from previous Whateley family members. He would drag Lavinia and later poor Wilbur up to Sentinel Hill in the middle of the night to perform his rituals. Wilbur was just eleven when his grandfather passed away with poor Lavinia passing away two years later. Again, Wilbur was at the center of the situation. Her death was a surprise and a bit of a mystery. Due to Wilbur’s appearance, no one made much effort to question him though.
I have asked Professor Morgan and Professor Rice to accompany me to Sentinel Hill to investigate. Whatever is happening in Dunwich, someone must find the answers.
Pray for us!
While I was heading out, hoping to get to Sentinel Hill, a gentleman approached me today with a cellular phone that he found out in the woods. There were no identifying marks on the phone and the battery was dead. No one in the library had a charger that fit the device.
The young man wants to take the phone with him stating he might have a charger at home that fit the phone. There have been detectives and reporters milling about trying to make Wilbur and the goings on at the Whateley farm part of their next news cycle. I wonder if that phone belonged to one of them?
I wasn’t sure that letting the young man have the phone was a good idea. He seemed overly eager to get his hands on it again. I am not very good with technology. I don’t know what to do. Should I let the phone out of my possession?
There has been a rash of old trees turning up knocked over as if some invisible giant has attacked them. In a clearing on the north side of the domed hill some of the oldest trees have been uprooted and tossed to the side. It almost looks like someone was playing with them like they were pixie sticks.
There are empty spaces in the forests that bear a resemblance to footprints. Some of the stumps have been smashed into the ground. The trees are only found strewn about in the mornings. During the day the forest is quiet. Quiet that is except for the ever-present sound of the whippoorwills.
There is something evil happening in Dunwich.
I found a rare book hidden in the back of the storage room. It was an ancient copy of the Necronomicon. I had heard the book spoken of for decades but had no idea a copy of the very book was in my possession. The book is written in Latin, a subject I have always excelled in. I opened it to page 751, the page old Wizard Whateley referenced on his deathbed. The last part of the translated text caused me to have goose flesh:
As a foulness shall ye know Them. Their hand is at your throats, yet ye see Them not; and Their habitation is even one with your guarded threshold. Yog-Sothoth is the key to the gate, whereby the spheres meet. Man rules now where They ruled once; They shall soon rule where man rules now. After summer is winter, after winter summer. They wait patient and potent, for here shall They reign again.
Wilbur came to see me at the library and now the book is gone!
For years I have heard the elders say that Yog-Sothoth was Wilbur’s father. His behavior tonight leads me to believe the boy believes it to be true. If he’s intent on recalling his father from the other side, he must be stopped! Someone has to go to Whateley farm to see if there is any sign of the book or of Wilbur. Something is going on at the Whateley farm. I don’t know what it is but I know I must stop him! Something evil is approaching!
A few years back, I visited the Whateley farm. The place was completely dilapidated. The house was completely boarded up. The barn was in a shambles. It appeared Wilbur had been living in the barn. Wilbur’s odd facial features and that unforgiving stench made it so I was barely able to prevent myself from returning my lunch.
Wilbur brings with him a foul odor that is almost strong enough to take your breath away. It has followed him since childhood. There was never the sweet smell of innocence that usually accompanies babies. For as long as anyone can remember a smell I can’t help but describe as that of a festering wounded animal has followed Wilbur. The air is always thick when Wilbur is around and the lingering after smell is sickening. I am ashamed to say I have been inclined to think the smell is the result of inbreeding, but as a man of science I cannot prove such a thing.
The smell reminds me of witnessing the Whateley’s up on Sentinel Hill when Wilbur was just a boy. There were stones set around in a circle that formed what appeared to be a makeshift altar. The Whateley’s built massive fires that sometimes were used on the sacrifices that took place. On the night Earl Sawyer and I observed them, the Whateley’s were performing some ritual that was both beautiful and terrifying. As the ritual played out there was a single lightning bolt and suddenly the trees, grass, and the like changed color. Their lush green hue disappeared and everything turned sallow. With it a stench arrived strong enough to take one’s breath away. The landscape became littered with the bodies of dead whippoorwills. The stench cleared quickly and the color returned to the vegetation.
My name is Dr. Henry Armitage. I am the librarian at Miskatonic University, my alma mater. As a man of science, I feel it is my duty to investigate things that just aren’t quite right. In the nearby town of Dunwich, things are anything but right. Dunwich sits up high in the hills of Northern Massachusetts. As one climbs higher and higher, the terrain changes. Oddly are thickets of lush grasses but little else grows there. A few sparse houses dot the landscape. The area is isolated and decrepit. Gorges and ravines of varying depths wind around the road and on any given night a symphony of whippoorwills and bull frogs can be heard for miles around.
The town has a history of rumored witchcraft and other dark arts that reaches back to the mid 16th century. Black magic is indeed alleged to have deep roots in Dunwich. It is said that the whippoorwills wait for souls to be released. On nights when their chorus rips through the darkness then grow eerily silent, one can’t help but wonder if that may be true.
There have been cows turning up missing only to be found later looking like they have been ripped apart. The locals think they are being sacrificed.
As I said I am a man of science. I put no stock in rumors or innuendo. I want facts. There have been some strange happenings in Dunwich lately. I am resolved to get to the bottom of things. I will be using these posts as a method of documenting my findings. I hope you’ll follow along the journey with me.