The void of memories cry as they reveal the horrid and dreary lore of a dying, satan-worshipping family. I can't certainly remember each parts of this family odor, or the strange conduct of their devil worship.

Of course, soon this memory will die with me.

I remember this, for I had seen it myself; a horrid, wretched daemon which seizes all marvelous structures of the dull towers of the Ahbahlus Gaunts, crying and inarticulate, for here alone doth the evil daemon Gagnarotothoa doth sob in horror. And of the bygone gladness of course.

It was the second of February that my family hath given birth to young burden; a child, of whom had been given the name, Francis Licu, after my father. At least we had been told this. Francis' mother, Rosemarie Licu, was not an immediate devil-worshipper--she had only done a certain ritual to give birth to child. They lived with the old man, Martial Nestor, who was a very old man, and who began rituals daily.

we were proud of the child, and Old Man Martial even said:

"Tis' a blessin', dis' grandchild o' mine! Alas, I wish'd for a gurl', but mine own child prayed for the opposite. Welp, I cannot' fight 'er; she too strong fer' dat', and I have become weak! Young Francis, oh, hehe, tis' a blessin' ye! Lil' Francis, I pray ye be safe!".

This family, though, is not our dying family. The Jamiesons, who hailed from America, were left in poverty, and thenceforward were shunned from any academic schools for their child. This child was only seven years old, and the mother was extremely determined in her child being the next Einstein. Ha! Of course, this is indeed only a dream, I have foreseen it. I was of the other family, the Licus, whom hailed from west of Leincomtober.

My brother, Francis, was very much known by the schools, and they all competed to get Francis to get in; this was because of the family being so very luxurious, according to the other people around the area.

The Jamieson's boy loathed Francis. This child had no identified name, strangely, and had a strange propensity to break the rules. One day, when Francis and the unnamed boy encountered each other whilst walking down the streets.

"Well, look 'ere, da' "fancy" boy'."

"What ye want, child."

"Nothin' but yer' head cut off yer' body, Francis! I'd use it to do m'rituals!"

"Ye...ye with thy disgusting devil-worship..."

"I ain't believe in Satan, mate, I only believe in da' ancient Gagnarotothoa! God o' da ole'!"

"What ye speak of is blasphemy, and I hate ye!".

They almost went into a scrap, before being stopped by one of the elderly men, whom went by the name Wilkerson Job. Here, they both were separated, and young Francis went into detention for exiting the school to fight the other child.

This was the first time Francis had been hit by one of the teachers; she had said,

"Oh, child, I'll tan ye!" as she held some black, flappy object which she used to slap Francis' palms.

In the other side of this land, the unnamed child lay grounded by his father, Elderly man named Henry. "Gagnarotothoa be disappointed in ye, child! Ye lucky I ain't gon' kill ye!"'.

It was Friday in October the seventh. Old priest of the local church had reported seeing the Jamieson family members dancing in some cult ritual, naked, only wearing underpants.

"It is now the fourteenth time we have seen the family do these strange rituals. It is time we hang 'em, for their beliefs are only blasphemous lies.

Hang 'em, for they don't deserve heaven anyways!". These words were strange, and something you would never hear a normal priest say, but this one was horrified!

Ha, how hypocritical of this priest, who frowns upon murder like everyone else. It was not illegal to believe in other religions, obviously, and so this priest had lost his position in religion.

He took stand, according to himself, to destroy this so-called cult. This meant, we all thought, he was stalking the Jamiesons. And even though no one actually liked the family, one of the policemen were forced by the chief to recommend the family file a restraining order o'er this former priest. This, of course, had not stopped this man.

After a fortnight of waiting in drear, the old priest broke into the church and stole their big cross and their ancient, unique holy-water. Then, he attacked the father of the family, and screamed:

"Ye damn blasphemous dolt! If the others ain't gon' hang you, I'll do it myself! In the name of God!".

He thought he could perform an exorcism, methink. But, of course, he failed. Before he had been swept up by some demoniacal claws, he soaked his face and hands in the holy-water!

July the fifth, the next year, the priest was deemed dead. His name, Nahum Howard, was buried under the grounds of his hometown, and my family visited, for we had a special fondness in Nahum.

"Mr. Howard was a special man, tho' he had requested for a certain family to be hung. We hope dat' he may rise to heaven, spit out at hell, and stare out from the clouds.".

Now, two days after, my brother, Francis, had ran towards the mail-box with a small letter. In it, he wrote,

"Dear Professor Essen of Harvad University,

I hail from Isiolr, Ireland, and request ye investigate what strange things has happened in my town. You see, I have witnessed some strange daemonic creature striding through the woods of our local park. Why must I waste these pages attempting to describe the thing? How could I anyway? I must make it clear that I could never describe it, for how could I describe such strange unproportional, stretching, and throbbing body parts; or the colorless eyes of it? Let it suffice to say that it is indeed monstrous, and indeed unsymmetrical to the body.

I request ye experiment on the creature, for most town folk do not have your scientific caliber.

Sincerely,
Francis Licu."

By this time, I had graduated into the seventh grade. My brother, Francis, was grade five, and had an impressive grammar unlike mine own. It was now July the nineth, and this professor actually succeeded in travelling to Isiolr. He entered the place wherein lay the monster--here, he saw a demoniacal creature on four disproportional legs. "Almighty God!" Exclaimed he in fright, but then, someone said something even more calmly than I could imagine! "Nope...tain't one o' God's Angel's, hehe, tis' one o' da' Ahbahlus Gaunts.", "And whom, might I ask, are you?", "I ain't 'ave a name, sir, tis' strange me guess, but was born dis' way, yes indeed." The unnamed boy was then strangely postured. It looked as if he had aged a lot, enough to to be in university. In his hand did he hold the Book of the Eight, by some desolate and desperate poet.

"Wat' are ye gon' do to da' poor lil' thing?" He asked, "I shall research and experiment with it.". "Dat'd be hard, ainit, bit hard to do dat'!".

With this, Francis and I walked into the room, where we saw the hunching back Jamieson. "We heard ye be 'ere". The professor asked us questions about the beast in his articulate vocabulary. He stayed in the town for a couple days, but now the dying family of Jamiesons became desperate, for now the old man named Henry, who was the father of the household, had thenceforward died.

The mother soon left after a series of break downs, and now the unnamed child, who was now strangely old-looking, was the only inhabitant of the house. One day, he finally went insane, and began tearing down the house!

April the fourth, the professor went missing. The whole town was in the search party, and found his footsteps leading them to the Jamieson household. It was burning and dreary, dismally burnt to the crisp ground. The screams of the unnamed child was heard, and we all saw, from the flames, the monster and the child collide, and become one strange large monster! Francis and I ran towards our house has most people had perished. Our grandfather, old man Martial, held a gun to the door, and waited for the wretched creature to come. Now, before we all die, I reflect the tale upon the abyss of abysmal darkness.

"Oh, ye, hide! Da' thing be comin'!"

"Erh! Francis, escape thro' da' window, quickly, aiigh!"

"No, leave!"

Conclusion

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