The Shadows of Yog-Sothoth

Maandag 11 november 1926

- brief bij non:

Salk Harbour, Maine

Dear Sirs:
I have read of your exploits and wish intently to see you. I have some slight occult knowledge myself, and am aware of the dagner that you and your comrades may be in from the Silver Twilight: accept the enclosed train tickets to come and meet me immediately in Salk Harbour, Maine. I am wealthy, and I would be only too glad to help others to defend the world against the monstrous evil of the Elder Ones. I expect you shortly.

Sincerely,
Christopher Edwin

- Christopher Edwin = oudere man, rijk (visconserven).
- trekken naar Salk Harbour: 1000 man, vissersdorpje.  Herenhuis op heuvel.
- Edwin = oud en verrimpeld in rolstoel, geen butler, enkel meid.
- vertelt verhaal.

Christopher Edwin’s Statement

Fifty years ago, a man named Clarence Woodie lived north of town. He had a reputation for being an evil and vengeful man. He would kick dogs to death for snapping at him. He would poison a neighbour’s sheep if it stepped onto his land. He never married, but adopted three boys from the county orphanage. He raised them in his evil ways, and they were as wicked as he, I dare say.
When he suddenly died, the boys found a tin box stuffed with money under his bed. They claimed that they came upon it by accident. The townsfolk did not believe this story, and neither did the police, who arrested the lads on a charge of smothering their foster father for his money. All three were hanged – they were in their early twenties by then – and they were buried in unmarked graves. THen a strange thing happened. The person who bought the Woodie House was found dead with a rope burn about his throat, as if he had been hung! Only he was found lying in his bed, with no rope at hand.
Later on, several other people, including two tramps, also died in that house, their throats mysteriously marked by rope as though from a hangman’s knot. I think, and I feel you may agree with me, that the damned spirits of Woodie’s boys lingered about that house, murdering whoever stayed there too long.
Finally, no one would enter that house, and it fell into disrepair. Thus it remained for over forty years. But last year a person came to town who had once belonged to the Silver Twilight and he bought the land on which the old house stood. He did not sleep in the place, but villagers whispered that he performed strange acts there, and that he was trying to invoke or tame the haunts that lived there. His name was Malcolm Smith. In any case, before I fell sick, I spied on him trying to converse with the house’s ghosts. When I saw the wraiths themselves speak with him, I fainted dead away!
I contacted you because I’ve guessed what Mr. Smith was trying to do. He realized that the haunts had a powerful magical aura, and he was trying to tap it for some magical act. He was actually weakening the ghosts – not to destroy them, but to steal their energy to perform magic. Smith disappeared just before I fell ill. Even though weakened, the specters managed to destroy the man who was vampirizing them. When I listened to their conversation, this is what I heard:
“Ye fiends of night! Ye ghosts of the damned dead! Ye spirits of evil and sin! Come! Come! Come and yield up your criminal power to me! Free your weakening resolve from this place of your crimes, and release your energy! Reinforce me with the magic and power of your being! I must wax and you must wane! Strengthen me at your despair!”
That’s what Malcolm Smith chanted. Then, the faint ghost of  a man, its head lolling at one side as though the neck was cracked, appeared.
“Depart from us”, said the ghost. “Leave us be… cease tormenting our pains and anguish…leave us or let us feast upon your fear, as we have done to others… sacrifice yourself to our hunger or depart from our horror…”
At this point Malcolm suddenly turned away, the ghost gave a mournful wail, and I fainted. Would you please take up where I left off? The ghosts are weaker now; not even the villagers at their most superstitious now feel that they are active. They still may be able to harm you, so take care. If Malcolm Smith did indeed die in that haunted house, he may have left interesting manuscripts or incriminating data about the organisation he devoted his life to – the Silver Twilight.
I found out about his membership in the Silver Twilight when I saw Carl Stanford, who has been mentioned as an important principal in the Silver Twilight, speaking with him three weeks before Smith disappeared. I did not find out who Carl Stanford was until a month ago.
Help me! I am wealthy, and wish my last acts to be good ones – perhaps I can be instrumental in destroying the Silver Twilight and thus saving the world from the evil that will surely descend upon it if they triumph!

- Edwin lijkt oprecht. Weet over ST hetzelfde als wij.
- non  gaat praten met pastoor.
- Tiger leert ‘Enchant pipes’ (4W)