I. January 5th
Since the sky rose about 25 minutes ago I've decided to keep a journal for mine and my cousin Edgar's studies since the untimely death of my father, Doctor Johnathan Ricardo.
Let me start from the beginning. I am Wilbert Virgil Ricardo, I attend UnLond University of Scholars and Philosophers in Dune Wick, Alabama. I've worked my whole life to get here and it was no easy task. I've been studying Philosophy and Economics for 6 years now, I've had no breaks for most of that time except to help Edgar aid my father during his declining years of reclusion, of course, at one point it grew to the point that I was the only one allowed into his study. By that point, his physical form had deteriorated to a form barely recognizable. His skin was pale, his eyes sunken and dulled from their once lively state.
By that time he was a shadow of his former self. And soon, too soon is debatable, he was taken from this world.
I've received word from Edgar, he has finally completed the preparations for my father's funeral, I was going to make the preparations myself but my catching up on my schooling at which Edgar had volunteered to take it off of my hands, and while I was grateful for it I was reluctant seeing as he was my father, but I reluctantly did agree to it. The funeral is on the tenth, so I've decided to at least prepare a speech.
"I invoke you, Azrael, Archangel of Death, to come and guide the good Johnathan Ricardo to his rightful place among the other good souls of heaven. He was a good man we all will miss, whatever took the life of the good doctor has stolen an earthly angel from us. May he live forever live in the hearts of me and my family. He gave me my curiosity and my fascination with both philosophy and the classics to which I thank him. And I will always miss him." that was the speech I gave at the funeral of my Father I know he wouldn't want us to feel sad for him but rather celebrate his life. However, Edgar and I agreed to hold a funeral instead. We figured it'd do since his sudden passing was a tragedy to the both of us.
II. February 1st
Forgive me for not having written in some time. Edgar and I have been writing to each other trying to pick up where my Father left off. In one of his letters, Edgar mentioned a phrase that caught my attention: "Fg'tavn dge es'gt del rh'g." I remember the doctor saying this to me in his final days of sanity, if my mind and memory serves me right it meant: "Fg'tavn devilish things, I stand against thee." I remember chuckling at it when he first said it as it just seemed funny, the way he spoke it sounded like he was taking a stand against some creature, maybe he was messing with me as I never could get him to tell me if it was true. Edgar has decided that he will begin to search through the doctor's notes and send any important information he finds.
I've received word from Edgar, he is currently not feeling up to his personal code, which I might add was actually quite low, it shows quite apparently in his latest letters. I figure its nothing, however, I don't want him overworking himself on this little-esteemed project of ours. So, to fix this I've written in my recent letter to him to send me some of the notes and sketches. I'm not sure how he'll respond but its worth the try to attempt to pick up some of the workloads off of his shoulders, and if we're lucky my schooling will not prove an obstacle for our research.
If he does send the notes, I'll head to one of the libraries on the campus. It's a strange little place constructed in the basement of the main library, The Library of Alexander, and from what word I've caught of it a secret word is needed to access it. The place itself is called the KenFlip Archives, and frankly, I'm somewhat unnerved by the rumors I hear, but I can't be sure what's true or untrue as some information conflicts with each other. On one hand, I hear the place isn't human and contains knowledge not meant for man, while on the other I hear its a quaint place for people interested in fictitious cult-like stories. However, it seems that the library itself conflicts with current facts and history of this University. I've checked the past 50 years of available records and not once has the name KenFlip ever turned up.
The first time I heard of KenFlip was from my newly acquired friend and esteemed associate Lyden. That man was so energetically full of his capabilities. I was curious when he first mentioned it, we were conversing of our Professor's lecture that day of occultic beliefs and how they had added to our world and even some negatives of the items added to the world and its culture. The assignment handed out that day was one that was unrequited for us to complete, however, we had agreed to do the assignment as an attempt to show our conviction to our studies. Yet I found it impossible to find information on the subjects in Alexander's that was until I found Lyden with a book filled to the brim with what we needed, I was perplexed as to how he found it so I asked him. His response was less than filling. All he said as an answer was simply "The KenFlip Archives." Needless to say, I was intrigued in learning what KenFlip was if it held such information as the book Lyden had, so I began questioning people gathering rumors building a small but useful database of understanding of this strange library.
If Edgar pulls through I'll have the notes within a week's time at which I'll explore the library of KenFlip.
Edgar has written back and has reluctantly sent some of the doctor's notes to me, he says that he will send more soon and continue to send a couple pages at a time until he is back in better health. The letter itself arrived with the notes about three days ago, I've been biding my time just to make sure that all have arrived. I've also have gone to KenFlip and as a matter a fact I'm writing this entry at the library right now, the KenFlip Archives are not that impressive itself. The place itself holds up to the rumor of just being the basement of Alexander's, and needless to say, it is quite frankly small unlike its counterpart's grandeur just a flight of stairs above. Yet despite its dilapidation from years past the books within contain exactly what Edgar and I have been looking for, although I am slightly peeved that my good cousin has primarily sent me notes containing the strange tongue. Phrases like from his encounter with the voodoo which from Indiana reading "Cna'zg dh'l reh lyr'z deg rg" this specific phrase has only appeared once in the books I've read within KenFlip titled, The Kthala, with other phrases within the notes appearing three times in the entirety of what I've read of this book, the section featuring the phrase read as the following: "Cna'zg dh'l reh lyr'z deg rg. He who searches for this phrase's contents searches for his own deathly demise."
III. March 1st
Edgar is fairing fine now, in fact, he claims that he feels better than he ever has felt. However, I find sleep has been evading me as of late, this is leading me to believe that the esteemed doctor had uncovered the meaning of the phrase despite the warnings that damned book held. And yet here I find myself, still craving to learn the meaning of the phrase.
An idea had entered my mind I since I finished the prior part of this entry, the professor who gave us the assignment that led to my discovery of KenFlip, Professor Arch, might just know something about the library. I'll visit him during his office hours later on in the week.
Every single time I've tried to speak with the professor he was busy, but thankfully today I had managed to finally speak to him. At first, I was telling him of how the assignment led to my discovery of something I thought he'd find fascinating. He mostly brushed off most of it saying that the point of the assignment was to get us to learn something fascinating. His demeanor had remained the same throughout the most of the entire conversation until I finally brought up the KenFlip Archives. His demeanor, in the time it took me to fully articulate the name of the strange library, had gone to calm and fun to calm but unnerved. He told me that his office was no place to speak of the library and that he'd meet with me on the 7th within the said library. At the end, it seemed he was shocked I knew of the library. I am not sure of why his office would be unsafe to speak of the archives but I chose to not question it, yet it still gives me a strange feeling.
Today is the meeting with professor Arch, but not for another hour. I am beginning to grow nervous about this meeting. What if I uncovered something I shouldn't have? What if I wasn't supposed to tell the professor of the library? What does he know that needs to be discussed withing KenFlip? I am praying that my questions will be answered by whatever the professor has to say.
I am now currently writing from within KenFlip, Prof. Arch has just left. While not entirely helpful the professor was able to tell me the history of the library he knew of. According to the professor, the library was just the standard basement to the regular library just a floor above. He told me that while e was attending KenFlip as a student about 15 years ago he spent most of, if not all, his time in the library's grand halls. It seems he spent such large amounts of time that the library was practically his study outside of home. He told that it was like this until his final semester of his final year. On an October's cold evening he had entered the library's halls swiftly making his way to the basement's entrance. He described entering the basement surprisingly off, but when he saw a strange book lying on his desk. He described the book as strange an unearthly, he said the book was bound in skin-like scales with a piercing eye on the cover that felt alien when he saw it. He then began to describe the pages of the book saying that the pages were in pristine condition yet gave off a ghastly color he wasn't quite sure how to describe. Yet what puzzled him the most was the way the book was written, he claims that it wasn't written in any language known to man, but in strange symbols not of this earth. The professor told me that his first reaction, once he regained control of his own skin, was to grab the book and bring it to the librarian to see if he knew anything. What he next described puzzles me, upon nearly reaching the librarian of Alexander's he told of a severe sense of deathly dread and panic that he was soon overcome by. He looked back at the cover of the book and said that the alien-like eye seemed to be staring at him with what he could only describe as hellish intent. By the time he finished this portion of the tale the professor seemed to be quite shaken just retelling the tale, but soon he continued once more saying that he never managed to bring himself to continue to give the librarian the book, as he said that although the cover had only changed in texture in his hands to more of a usual hard-book cover feeling, the pages had changed quite a bit, the no longer held their ghastly color only looking like regular pages but aged with time and that the text had appeared to him in English rather than the symbols he had previously seen. He said that by the time he returned to the basement study another book had appeared, much like the first it seemed unnerving before suddenly appearing normal to him. He finished his tale by informing that by the end of the year books had stopped appearing but enough had appeared to create the KenFlip Archives. I proceeded to ask him how it got the name and he said even he doesn't know, as he had abandoned the study before it was known as KenFlip.
I still remain in the library as of now, hours after the meeting with Arch, I am searching for the book he spoke of in his tale, I want to know what knowledge it contains.
I've had no luck finding it
Despite the recentness of Arch's tale of KenFlip, I cannot shake the feeling he was lying about something within his tale or perhaps hiding information altogether. Unfortunately, I cannot think of anyone else in this University, student or professor, who would have any form of extensive knowledge on the Archives, or believe me that they exist. However, in worse news Edgar has written to me once more, but not on what I'd think it was, the letter was as follows:
Although nice to write to you once more, I wish it under better circumstances, as I carry awful news. As of three days ago, I had entered the study at the doctor's old house to retrieve the of the notes of the doctor's occultic research I had left there. Upon arriving at the estate's main house I found that everything was off, there was a smashed window leading to the study. Once I was actually in the study I found it torn apart deep scratches on the walls, and the desk, which was already beginning to fall apart, was in shredded bits of wood with the chair being cut and torn with the stuffing within it scattered all over the room. Hell, even the painting the doctor had in there was shredded to pieces. Worst of, aside from the destruction of the last of his notes, was a sound coming from upstairs it was lowly pitched and monstrously unnerving, it was the only sound there were faint sounds of something flesh-like being torn, but from the study, I couldn't quite pick up on it.
It took a moment to work up the courage to go investigate but I managed to get myself to do it. As I left the study to head upstairs I found more scratches, whatever was in the study made its way into the rest of the house. The marks were even on the walls of the halls, the walled scratches were deeper than I think any normal creature of this earth could have made. I knew that I should have armed myself before going up but I wasn't thinking. When I arrived upstairs, all that was audible was coming from the master bedroom. The sound itself was uncanny, the sound of something tearing into something and eating. Despite not sounding too awful something about it was off. So into the room, I ventured.
What I saw, scared me. That thing, it was feasting on the corpse of your mother. The poor old woman probably just could see it coming. I'll spare the rest of the detail, but as soon as I set my eyes on that thing, I could feel fear overcome me to the point of forcing me unconscious. The doctor told me of a similar event that happened to him. By God do I wish I listened, yet as he had also said, it was the best sleep I've gotten in ages.
I'll write back and get the funeral time and location. The creature to which he is referring to might just be this 'Fg'tavn' in the notes of the doctor. I'll ask Edgar for a description of this creature and see if it matches up with the diagrams and sketches in the notes of the doctor.
I've just received a response from Edgar today, his writing is barely legible and appears rushed in the time it was written as if he was trying to write it while running to the Post to send it. The second half of the letter is completely unreadable, but fortunately, the first half can be somewhat read. It reads:
I will NOT tell you of It if I did you'd fall down the rabbit hole.
Moving on, your mother's funeral will be held hopefully on the 15th of next month. I say hopefully as I've been incredibly busy the past while so I would like some help with the funeral this time. If you can't I completely understand if you can't as the debacle with your father's estrangement that left you with a lot to catch up on in University work, if you can't I will check with my friend Scott Howards to give me assistance if you cannot. In the meantime please consider assisting me.
At this point, the writing of the letter grew too illegible for me to read. I've decided that I'll help Edgar with the preparations. I can understand and sympathize with the stress of planning a funeral, and I owe him for taking care of the preparations for my father's funeral. I'm still in disbelief that, so soon after the mysterious passing of my father, my mother too has passed away. I'm taking the next train I can back home.
IV. April 1st
As it is the first of April I figured I'd write this: This statement is false.
I'm back in my childhood home, in my old bedroom since converted to a guest-room, writing an entry in a journal I don't even recall the reason to have, in fact, Edgar still doesn't know of it. There are several discrepancies from what Edgar said in his letter. The study is completely back in order, and any sign of scratch marks that he spoke of, do not exist. Even when I questioned others they have all said that my mother had passed during the night of a heart attack. Speaking of Edgar I've been here three days now and still haven't seen head nor tail of him, almost as if he had just vanished.
The strangest thing of all, when I awoke this morning and stepped outside, there was a letter sitting on the doorstep, in the same nearly illegible writing as Edgar's previous letter saying no more than Jyos iqo jqsuzl je vepeq uj af. Rezj biww beq jyo wuog. If it is Edgar that truly sent this then I am at a loss for its meaning. Did he succumb to the same illness that caused the doctor's madness? I can be sure.
A bright idea struck me, noon is actually when it had struck, I left a simple piece of paper on the doorstep with only the message: What? An hour later I returned to check on the note only to find it gone, replaced with another note simply saying: Illusions, do not fall for them. What illusions do they speak of, I don't know. I'm currently writing from the kitchen of the house which has no windows and yet, I feel as if I'm being watched.
Another not on the door, reading Meet me at the shed at dusk I don't know what to think. Its the same prim handwriting from the previous notes, I'm not sure if I should go or not.
My watch reads 4:50. I've decided to go to the meeting, however, I am going to arm myself with a knife. I'm just not sure if I can trust whoever's writing these notes to me, I know it's not Edgar.