Swans
The Glowing Man
As I write, non-euclidean beings from an ungodly dimension are flying overhead, trying to consume us all. They feel only enmity for this plane, us as a species, and me as an individual. They are only doing their duty, as the prophecy was delivered from Yog-Sototh, a congeries of iridescent globes. Most of them, I have no doubt, possess no concept of empathy, and defy the corporeal laws of this realm, dreaming only of emotionless homicide. They bear many names, are of different groups, they are made of the elements yet transcend them: hidden in the depths, primal lurkers beyond time; the horrible survivors of distant eons.
I should unmask. Indeed it is time, for all have laid aside disguise but I. I wear no mask.
In his house at R'lyeh, dead Cthulhu waits dreaming.
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