I’m writing this because I don’t know what else to do. No one would believe me if I told them, so I figured I’d do what Lovecraft would do. Just write it down and let people think its fiction. I was born an orphan in Manchester. I found out a few years ago I could… do things. Some kind of arcane power maybe, I’m not sure. I just know I can do something different. But it isn’t good. I think it’s because God abandoned me; he abandoned us all. I started reading Lovecraft, looking into the occult and such, and I learned things about the world around us. It isn’t quite what it seems, I know. I know it. I can’t prove that vampyres exist, I can’t prove that lycanthrops are real, but bullocks if they aren’t among us! I joined the army because it was that or starve. That and the fucking Germans have bombed us to oblivion. Perhaps I’ll find what Lovecraft found. Perhaps I’ll find the bloody truth about me. Or anything in this God forsaken land. I’ll write something more later, when I know more.