Synopsis: H.P. Lovecraft's Cthulu at last has the opportunity to tell his sordid tale.
It isn't simple being the most loathed monster of all time, let alone of all creation. I didn't ask to be hated, let alone the very epitome of what it means to be ugly. I think in dictionaries, I am even referenced as being the most haggard and detestible being known to monsterkind. Now that is prestige and privilidge. And also, I was being entirely sarcastic. Being male I have the common urges and there seem to be few and far females of the species that even want to come close to me. It's due to my unseemly form, but I had gotten used to being alone so I filled my mind with knowledge and untold treasure from ships that accidentally wrecked after seeing my terrifying eyes and scythe-like claws...
Which reminds me. This is what I'm trying to get across. Monsters like myself, no matter how 'unattractive' deserve rights as well. I may not be seen as integral to society or contribute anything to it (I actually denounce the previous statement. I have vast amounts of knowledge but no traveler has gotten the courage to ever ask me...perhaps now they will be able to steel themselves and do so since I am bearing my soul), but I live, and breathe, and exist. I desire life and protect life around me. In fact, where I dwell (around the Bermuda Triangle incidentally) deaths and disappearances are often blamed on me rather than the polarity shifts and magnetism that surrounds this unusual and eerie place. It is also a portal, amongst many on your planet's surface, but I am not here to discuss secrets of the Universe with you. I'm here because I wish to discuss my right to live in this occult place. Sure, I am blamed for a number of deaths here, but I didn't cause them. There have been some foolish enough to try and murder me. Typically the Triangle works its alien mystique and I am left alone. However, there are times I have had to defend myself, but I have never harmed any living soul. I simply send ships back in the opposite direction. Few that have gazed upon my blood red eyes and razor sharp sawmill maw have said they have seen death itself. I can't help but chortle at the T-shirts that read, 'I met Cthulu and lived' and see these so-called adventurers as men who really had no earthly clue as to what exhilleration truly was. Try seeing the creation of Earth unfold and witnessing it in its birth pangs, now that is breathtaking. Sadly, I still fight for my desire to live, if not for myself, but for sea monsters everywhere. We're simply a misunderstood lot who do our best to keep secrets and underwater civilizations from being picked apart by cretinous creatures whose only goal is profound amounts of treasure. Sure, there is loot here, untold amounts of it, the likes of which I have no method of innumerating. Mysteries too, remain with these sunken treasures, and I feel it is better that way, particularly those secrets of Atlantis and Lemuria. Greed and jealousy from other civilizations were what destroyed these peaceful people. They were thriving until tainted evil eyes decided to claw them into the dust from whence they were birthed.
So you comprehend my bias at least, perhaps a semblance of it. If Atlantis does indeed rise again, I will be its ever-present protector from forces that would do it harm. This is what I have been doing for millenia, and longer than even I can recall.
One last plea I deliver, even if perhaps it falls on deaf ears. Even if I fade into obscurity all I ask is sanctuary. A few other monsters like myself have requested the very same concept and some thrived, yet, I am certain others passed on into the void, or whatever occurs after one dies. As for me, I will continue my quest protecting whatever I can in the murky depths, fathoms and fathoms below. It's all I have ever known and all I ever truly cherish in my sometimes tragic existence.