The Coiled Mask: The Final Night

The weariness dulled my senses, so it took me more than a few moments to notice that what should have been a pitch black night was instead lit by a faint orange glow. I readied my rifle, hoping the old rusty thing would fire as I stalked on to the beach. What I saw shocked me.

Slowly floating out to sea was an old ship engulfed in flames. I had no doubt that the ship was the Arab's. I was both elated and filled with despair. I had failed to save the women I had so evilly placed in peril. But then I noticed 3 black shapes huddled on the beach. Long hair blew in the wind as they watched the ship burn. All 3 were clad in blankets and bits of clothing they must have taken from the sailors before setting the ship on fire and escaping.

Relief nearly stole the last of my strength from me as I moved to go help the women. But then I stopped. Even with both mask and Arab gone, I was still the villain. I looked at the gun, thinking it could still do some good, but then inspiration found me one last time. With one last look at the women watching the boat burn, I turned and made my way back to my house.

I headed to the study, not bothering to check to see if Kit was gone. Either she was, or she had stayed, in which case I would learn of her presence before too long.

I checked the fireplace, finding to my dismay that the mask was gone and the fireplace was unnaturally cold. I searched the study quickly and found the box the mask came in was gone as well. I hoped that Kit had not fallen prey to its evil, but there was nothing I could do about that. There was only one thing left that I could do.

I sat at my desk, savoring the sensation for the last time and gathering up pen and paper, writing like a demon to record my experiences before the night ended.

And that brings us to now. Here lies my account of the events that transpired at the end of October 1925. I expect many of you will think this is an attempt to use some supernatural excuse for my perversion and that is fine. I deserve no forgiveness. I believe the mask seized upon the evil in me and merely brought it to the surface.

I hope my tale can be used to aid some poor soul who falls prey to the mask like I did. Maybe even to deal with the evil of the Arab's masters, this Hazhad Bey or the Black Rope(whatever that is). I go now to the edge of the cliff upon which Inkwell Manor sits, to greet my final sunrise. If nothing else, I hope any who read this heed my final words. Beware the servants of ancient evils who feast upon the weaknesses of the flesh. Beware the alien horror Shibaroth, floating above its raging black sea ever hungry, able to devour even goddesses of pure light. Above all though, beware the Coiled Mask!