I’ll be heading to a company meeting in a few minutes, so here is what we have to watch out for - in case the 0 is really Lovecraft’s Nyarlathotep. (I promise, this is the last time I’ll post it)

We should have foreseen this coming. Those of us who have read the ancient tomes, those of us who have even browsed the feared Necronomicon; the Unaussprechlichen Kulten; we should have known.

The rise of someone of curious parentage, with mesmerizing powers of speech; his resemblance to one spoken of only in whispers – it all presaged the catastrophe of January 20, 2009.

But if that were not enough, the other curious occurrences of the month leading up to it, should have given us warning. The earthquake in the Pacific, and the subsequent appearance of a new island, an island that could not be clearly photographed even by our most sophisticated satellites and aircraft, or approached by any ships or planes, should have been a warning.
The strange lights and noises in ancient towns that set their inhabitants on edge and set all the dogs barking, should have given us cause to think.
The mass migration of fish away from the eastern coast of the US, and the sudden disappearance of several fishing boats in sudden and unpredictable storms, should have warned us of the immanent reappearance of ancient beings long thought gone.
But we blamed all this on global warming. That is the least of our worries, now. How quaint it now seems to think that puny Man could have much of an effect in this vast world and vaster universe.

And last, we should have fled when he asked to be sworn in on an ancient “holy” book. Some thought his book was the Koran, because it was in Arabic. Others wondered at the strange leather in which it was bound. No, he was no Muslim; it was not the Koran. It was something far more ancient and far more dangerous.

It was, when he ended his oath of office, with the words “so help me, Azathoth”, that we knew. The scales, the deceptions that he had woven in front of our eyes, were so rudely torn away, and we saw that he was Nyarlathotep himself, the messenger of the Ancient Gods. The ancient text he had used was the dread Necronomicon, of the mad Arab, Abdul Alharazed. The sound we had heard, softly, unrecognizably, before, now grew in volume until it became deafening; a mad, demonic piping. Out of thin air appeared strange, grotesque creatures, dancing to this strange music, which have not since been able to get out of our minds.

The lucky ones of those present lost their sanity immediately. The Ancient Gods did not care who they destroyed – President, Senators, Ambassadors, were all the same to them. I doubt they even noticed us, the way we don’t notice insects we step on. But we certainly saw them, and those who followed their appearance; eldritch beings who thought of us as food, or worse, as playthings for their depraved entertainment.

The pride of the free world was reduced to rubble in seconds. The dreams of humanity; our hopes; were changed instantly to nightmares.

The memories of what followed still haunt me; I cannot bear to write them down, and I fear that my sanity will soon be gone. But I must hold on, and write this, hoping that someday, these ancient gods will once again return to their court at the center of the universe, and Earth, our poor Earth, will have a chance to recover.
And that someone will find this, and warn the world, before they once more pick Nyarlathotep as leader.

I hear them coming now; the screams are getting closer. Fortunately, as I made my panicked escape, I had the sense to pick up a weapon from one of the then-gibbering guards. I will use it on myself before they find me. But first, I need to hide this in the hope that some humans survive.