In the shadowed town of Dunwich, amidst the gnarled oaks and ancient stones, there dwelt a young lad named Wilbur Whateley. From the time he could crawl, Wilbur had an unsettling affinity for the left side of his bed. His mother, Lavinia, a gaunt woman with eyes that mirrored the abyss, would chide him gently, urging him to sleep on the right as all proper folk did. Yet, Wilbur, with his unnaturally large head and unsettlingly dark eyes, would always return to the sinister side.

Every night, as the moon cast its pallid glow upon the crooked rooftops of Dunwich, Wilbur would writhe in the throes of unfathomable nightmares. He would scream of cyclopean cities, of tentacled monstrosities lurking in the depths of space, and of a nameless...