Kyle asked how I first got involved with this, and I figured I might as well put it up here. It's practically guaranteed not to get read by anyone I don't trust, anyway
One of my friends, let's call him 'Dave', was a huge geek; looking up everything occult on the internet. He introduced me to Lovecraft, actually. One day, he comes to me and says he's found out something important about the lovecraft mythos, to meet at a forest. I was going to go, but real life intervened. I'm still not sure if that was a good or bad thing. When I tried to call to let him know, I couldn't get through, which was odd, because I was trying to reach his home phone. Since then, we didn't talk much; he started breaking off social ties, broke up with his girlfriend, started missing school. withdrew into himself. I think his parents blamed me; they kept saying I should do something, eventually stopped returning my calls.
I figured he wasn't going to screw anything up too bad; while it never got as bad as this, Dave was a pretty obsessive person, and he'd withdrawn before when something caught his eye. I figured it's end with a worryingly large expenditure on black candles, and he'd just be back to normal. I closed my eyes to it, tried to trust in him to snap out of it and come back, trusted that everything would be normal again.
He never did snap out of it. He stopped coming to school outright, spent long periods away from home, at the woods where he'd tried to meet me before. I think social services were looking into it. Then one night, I get a notepad in my room. Window's closed, doors locked, and there's this notepad on my bedside table, covered in drawings and writing, numbers and letters and symbols in pen, pencil, paint, blood, shit; everything he could lay hands on. It started semi-legible, talking about how he's found this new German mythos, with actual evidence behind it. How he found a way to call to an entity, how he'll see the truth of the universe. Most of the rest was illegible, smudged lines crossing over each other and random strings of numbers. probably a code or something. It ended with a semi-lucid note, saying how he has to go, how he'll be back for me, show me how blind I've been to the universe. I thought he was going to do something stupid, get himself killed, and he was still my friend. I left straight away, didn't even wake my parents. I don't know what I was thinking, but I remember running all the way there, must've been a few miles at least. I get there, and there's no light at all. So I'm stumbling through this wood at 3 in the morning, blind as a bat, when everything changes and I look into the shy and theres no moon, no stars. Completely alien. I think it might've been a less lethal part of the path, or something similar, because I knew those woods pretty damn well (raised there) and that sure as shit wasn't them. Anyway, I came to this clearing, and there he was, speaking to thin air. It wasn't english. And there he was. The Knave. The Prince. Nyarlonathotep. Whatever. and he was just standing there but I could tell he was looking at me, with no eyes bus still boring into me, seeing all my secrets and shame. I stood there. And he reaches out towards Dave with this arm, like a tree branch, growing, stretching, and then they're both gone. And Dave was dead, and there's this insane bastard swanning about in his skin.
I didn't realise it at first; chalked it up to a nightmare and sleepwalking. It was ridiculous, but I had to believe in something. I chose ignorance. But then I find out Dave' run away from home, and I find this notebook, and think there's something up. Do some digging. Find out too much. Dave comes for me with a knife, calls himself Fear, and kills. My parents. His Ex. My fucking pet cat. He just kills everyone and everything and I'm left running. Then one day he catches up to me. But I'm never going to go into what happened then.
*Edit* I guess the cat's out of the bag. I changed the names to remove traceability (I still know some people from where I was raised who're alive) but I need information pronto. He was Sean Thompson. He called himself Craft. I thought I'd killed him 16:23 January 5th 2013.