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nocent. “Yes, but please no titles, you may refer to me by my true name Sytorammar.” The man nodded. “As you wish, Xthukha.” By any account recalled by anyone passing by or looking out their window, they would see nothing more than a man dressed in black and a shabby, haggard rabbit at his feet. Other perceptions would tell a far different story altogether. For the sake of simplicity and sanity combined, it is best to perceive these two entities as the physical appearances they deemed appropriate for their talks. The rabbit’s ears twitched slightly to the left. “To answer your question of why I called upon you, well you see, it’s nothing formal nor does it involve official business. I simply want to have a chat. Find out how the family is.” The man cocked an eyebrow. “The Choirs above?” “You know which family I refer to. The one you started with the aid of that little shell of yours.” The man’s brow furrowed with slight suspicion. “What do you want to know?” “I understand as Father to the new up and coming ‘Chosen’ you’ve had your eyes on this

Happy Birthday Lovecraft!

cozy little plot of the world.” “I do whenever I can afford to. I have...” The man took a moment, deep in thought. “...other duties to attend to, which have gotten in the way.” “Of course, of course, I fully understand. You know I have my own little offspring out and about in the world.” The man was all too aware of the proximity of said offspring. It troubled him often to have such a brooding force lurking beneath an island so close to his own earthly family. “You see Sytorammar, my little ‘bundle of joy’, I think that’s what humans often refer to them as… she’s been a little rowdy and playful as of late. She’s been up to a bit of horseplay you see, and I was curious to know that since you have been watching over this area, had you noticed at all?” So that was the reason for this meeting, thought the man. “I have noticed a few… disturbances in the balance of things, all of which lead back to your offspring. If you were concerned about me sending a report to On High, as long as she does not affect my child’s upbringing, you need not worry.” “Who’s worried? Your high and mighty chief knows when to be complacent and keep out of affairs in the mortal world; Quite the

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Insomnia Press #2: Happy Birthday, Lovecraft!  

Dedicated to the late, great H.P. Lovecraft

Insomnia Press #2: Happy Birthday, Lovecraft!  

Dedicated to the late, great H.P. Lovecraft

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