The corridor was empty and quiet, my steps resounding as I walked down to the entrance. I slowly opened the doors to the night outside. It was another quiet night, no sound, not even from crickets. The temperature was markedly lower than earlier and the night air served wipe some of the sweat from my brow and back. I crossed the graveled Library Place and walked to the faculty entrance. Using the key I had borrowed from Prof. West, I locked myself into the Faculty of Parapsychology. I shut and locked the door, then navigating by the street light shining in through the windows, I followed the dark corridor to the right to a set of double doors. I stopped in front of the doors to the small faculty library, my favorite study place, to get the key out. The lock was broken, one door rattling on the latch. After a moment’s consideration, I slowly pushed the door open, praying it had been tended to recently and did not creak. Not a sound.

Through the tall windows overlooking the park behind the faculty building, the streetlamps lit the library with a silvery weak light. The quiet rows of bookshelves cast long shadows on the smooth linoleum floor. From further inside the library, I heard scraping noises. I set the bag and jacket gently down on the floor, opened the door as much as was needed and slipped inside. Burglars in the library? Not too likely. Someone had broken into the library and I had a strong feeling it was no coincidence.

I walked silently closer to source of the noise which I recognized as that of paper being ripped. Behind the ripping and rattling noise, a strange, high pitched tittering could be heard. I closed in on the noise and hunched down to avoid being seen. Blood was flowing swiftly and freely through my ears, interfering with my hearing. There, behind the shelves three rows down and further into the room a lone figure was standing hunched over a bookshelf. The person was leafing through one book, while a heap of torn and crumpled books and magazines lay by his feet. The shelf next to him contained overturned magazine boxes and loose sheets of paper. In between leafing through the journals, the intruder occasionally tore pages out of them, crumpled the sheets and threw them away, before quickly grabbing a new from the shelves next to it. The creature seemed to pick journals and books from the shelves at random, but I could be wrong.

The creature itself was stooped but taller than me by a head, covered with sparse but matted dark fur, had strange looking hind feet and a long, canine head with small naked ears sitting at the side of the head. It looked like a combination of a large bipedal dog and a particularly ugly pig. The creature carried with it the smell of decomposition from the grave. There was something perversely familiar with the way it hunched over the book it was leafing which made the sight a distinctly disturbing one. The remnants of light colored fabric hung in tatters on its back, a mocking hint of the attire it had worn as a human being.

As I watched frozen in disgust and horror, a suspicion turned to maddening certainty. I strained to get a better glimpse of the creature’s face and moved closer. The creature turned its back to me to grab another journal from the bookshelf behind it. As it turned towards me again to utilize the light from the windows, I got a better look at the creature’s face. Not even the canine features and pathcy uneven fur covering the head could obscure the familiarity of it. Before I had a chance to stop myself, I heard my own voice say: “Almasy? Is that you?”

The creature threw itself around and hunched down into a defensive posture. I realized I had made a mistake. A low growl rose from the ghoul. Even from a distance of more than five yards, the scent coming from it was almost unbearable, the stench of rotting flesh and fat earth. More surprised than I was aware of, I raised right hand in a calming gesture.

“Easy… it’s me, Leonheart… your room mate…” The creature snarled and suddenly sprang forward. I threw my arms up in front of my chest to protect myself. In a flurry of dark fur, white fangs and mortuary stench, I was banged into the bookshelf behind me. Strong hands closed around my neck. I tried to wrestle the hands away by pulling at the rough wrists, but it was useless, the creature was much stronger than me. I began choking under the pressure of the strong hands. Almasy lifted me up, held me at arm’s length and shook me like a rag doll. Pain and nausea shot through my throat and jaw and blue and yellow vortices began forming in front of my eyes.

“Almasy,” I gasped. “Don’t… you remember me? You’re… second in class… behind… me.” The creature mouthed a loud snarl. Stinking spittle rained over my face. A reaction. “Oh… by the way…,” I continued. “C-C-Caraway… asks… for you. She was… wondering where… you were.” I tried piping in air to my fading consciousness but the restricting hands were too strong, holding my neck in a vice. But then the shaking stopped and the hold loosened. I sucked in air as hard as I could. Something felt as if it had been knocked loose inside my throat. I would have to repair that afterwards. Another growl and shake, then I fell to the floor in a heap.

I desperately tried to massage some life into my throat and getting some more air, gasping and coughing. I received a good kick to the belly, which knocked the air out of me. There were some swift movements past my face, then steps across the floor. Coughing and pushing the pain of my burning throat aside, I scrambled to get to my feet. Bumping into bookshelves and battling hard with the tilting room, I went after Almasy.

Stumbling out into the dark hallway, I could see a swift shadow flitter across the silver light on the floor.

“Almasy!” I yelled and had to stop to cough. My throat felt like it was filled with glass shards and my belly was burning. “Almasy! Come back! Professor West… can help you!” Silence. Then the sound of rushing air next to me. Hot, stinking breath. Glowing red eyes and a growling sound next to my face.

“Leonheart. Stop following me,” The words were barely intelligible behind the growls and panting stinking breath. I was nevertheless compelled to listen closely to the speaker. “Or I will rip the limbs from your body and eat them one by one. This is none of your business. Stay out!” I was about to reply when Almasy lashed out with one clawed hand. The strike hit me in the forehead. It felt like my skull split in two and the room instantly began wildly turning this way and that. I felt the floor falling upwards to meet me, then everything faded out of view.

I awoke in a puddle of my own blood. Head wounds, even superficial bleed profusely. The hallway was dark and silent, but I sunrise couldn’t be far away. Feeling nauseous and with a burning throbbing head, I managed to get up on my knees. Blood dripped down from my forehead onto the floor. “Damn,” I whispered. My lips felt swollen and I was thirsty and sick as the same time. I had to get back to the dorms. I would rest and then report to Professor West later in the day. There would of course be a big commotion when the nightwatchman or janitor discovered that the library had been broken into.

Wanting to get away before the nightwatchman appeared, I struggled to feet which felt like they had joints of jelly. I looked around. My jacket and bag was still where I had left them, by the library doors. I weighed the pain and discomfort of walking back the few meters to retrieve them, which would allow a day of undisturbed rest, against the very real possibility I would not make it out of the building with the added distance and be caught here and have a commotion on my hands with no chance for rest first. The thought of a day’s rest before the raucus started won and I shambled over to the library doors. Out of breath already, I hung onto the door for a little while, pressing Tilmitt’s handkerchief against my forehead to stop the bleeding. Then I slowly and painfully picked the bag and jacket up and started at what seemed like thirty kilometers instead if thirty yards out of the building, across Library Place and back into the dorms.

My expectation of a day’s uninterrupted rest was brought to shame at a quarter to twelve when a loud banging was heard on my door. I decided to try and ignore the banging, but then I heard a key turn in the lock. I looked up to see who was locking themselves in. Raijin Peterson, one of Almasy’s closest friends and earning his college degree while working as nightwatchman at the faculty entered the room. He was followed by a tall policeman, Kinneas, Dincht and Fujin, Peterson’s girlfriend. I looked at them, still feeling too poorly to get up and most of all wishing they would disappear into thin air so I could return to sleep and continue healing myself. Peterson swaggered over to me.

“Here he is officer. Now arrest him.”

“Jesus mother of God, did you run into a truck or something?” Dincht asked. I shook my head, but stopped. My head felt like it was filled with rotten blood, throbbing and aching and shaking it made it feel worse. I would need a lot more sleep to get rid of the concussion Almasy had given me.

“Mr. Squall Leonheart?” The officer asked. I nodded once. “There has been a break in and vandalism of the library of Faculty of Parapsychology. The police is carrying out an investigation. You were one of the students having access to the library off hours. We need you to follow us to the Dean’s office so we can get some understanding of what happened.” I swallowed.

“I had a key, why would I need to break into the library when I could just have locked myself in?” I asked, more to get information than anything else.

“I must insist you come with me, Mr. Leonheart so we can talk,” the police officer said. “There was blood on the floor and signs of a struggle outside the library and you look like you just came home from a fight.” I made a sigh of resignation.The upset face of Raijin peered at me over the policeman’s shoulder.

“You know something about this don’t you?” he growled. “I can smell it on you. You Parapsych students are all alike, creepy and sick ghouls who have nothing else to do but sneak around libraries at night. And you’re the worst of the them. I’ve seen you lots of times there, don’t try and pretend it isn’t true.”

“Yeah, you’re creepy,” Peterson’s girlfriend piped up. I massaged my face with my hands.

“I assume just because you think someone is creepy that is enough to make you think they are criminals too,” I commented sourly. Raijin reached out and slapped my shoulder. The vibrations of the slap sent waves of pain and nausea through my head and body and I lay back in the pillows.

“Officer, can’t you see he’s injured?” Kinneas asked.

“I just need some sleep,” I protested.

“You’re right son, “ the policeman said. “We’d better get him to the doctor’s.”

Dr. Crowton, head of the campus medical center, shone a strong light into my eyes with the metal disc he had on a band around his head. Then he held out his hand and waved it front of me.

“Looks like your eyes are focusing,” he said, sounding pleased. I lay down on the examination bench again, not liking to sit up for long because of dizziness and nausea.

“You will have a scar, but you’ll be all right again,” Dr. Crowton informed me. “You’re having a concussion, but it’ll pass in a few days. In the mean time I strongly recommend you take it easy and have someone watch over you while you sleep the next twenty four hours. Do you have a room mate whom could stay with you? I know it’s finals and everything but…” I shook my head.

“My room mate’s already gone home for the summer,” I lied.

“Then what about someone else, girlfriend or friends?”

“Try Dincht and Kinneas at room 367, Faculty of Psychology and Parapsychology graduate dorms. They live across the hallway from me.”

“Good,” Dr. Crowton said. “I’ll go and call matron and have them come down to fetch you right away. You should take it easy for a while. I will of course see to that you’re excempt from any exam you should have had in the three next days.”

“I’ll be all right tomorrow. I just need to sleep today,” I told him. “Dincht and Kinneas won’t be in until later tonight. They’re both having exams now and preparing for another tomorrow.”

“I see,” the doctor said. “I will notify matron all the same and she will inform your friends when they return from the libraries. In the mean time, you can stay here and rest. You really shouldn’t sleep unsupervised when having a concussion. It was very unwise of you to go back to the dorms alone after having been in a fight.” I shrugged.

“I’ll be all right,” I told him.

“Now, now, that’s my line.” I looked up at the doctor, who was less than five years my senior. He grinned down at me. I smiled against my will.

“Ok, here’s a blanket for you and I will come back in an hour to check on you,” the doctor said, handing me a grey wool blanket which would more than keep me warm in the summer heat. “There’ll be hourly check ups, so you’ll have to get accustomed to that.” I nodded and took the blanket. I longed to go to sleep and continue healing up. I just hoped I would have none of the dreams I had had the previous day. I had an exam tomorrow to think about as well. Almasy and the library problem would have to wait.

Dincht and Kinneas appeared at 7 pm and followed me back to the dorms. When I started for the door to my room, Dincht put a hand on my arm.

“Uh-oh, you’re coming with us. You sleep in my bed and I’ll take your mattress on the floor.” I was about to protest when Kinneas interjected.

“Listen to him, Leonheart. It’ll be easier for all of us. Besides, we don’t want to get up and into the corridor every hour to check on you. It’s easier if you’re in our room and we can terrorize you there.” Lacking the power to resist I nodded.

“Ok, just let me go and have a shower and I’ll go to bed in your room right away.”

“Certainly, but don’t faint in there or we’ll have to come and fish you out in your birthday suit,” Kinneas grinned. I grimaced at him.

In the bathroom I peeled off a sweaty and bloody shirt and dirty pants, relieved to get them off. I ran the water cool and entered the shower. The water felt relieving and relaxing, loosening the tension and carrying away the excess heat in my body. I tried to massage my sore muscles and hurting head but the water burned whenever it came in direct contact with the wound on my forehead. I turned off the faucet and began drying with the towel. The afternoon’s sleep had already served to make me feel much better than I had in the morning and I decided to have a quick shave before going to bed.

While shaving I had a chance to take a good look at the wound Almasy had given me. The slash of his claws had drawn a long wound forming a thin line going from the left side of my forehead, crossing the bridge of my nose and reaching down to the right eye. In addition, the concussion had caused black patches to form beneath my eyes because of internal bleeding. My throat had blue bruises on the front and was still sore. I cursed. It would take me longer to heal than I had thought.

After having rinsed the shaving cream off my face, I went into the room, pulled out my drawer and found a pair of clean pyjamas pants. I changed into them and crossed the hallway to Kinneas and Dincht’s room. Dincht had brought my mattress into their room and put it on the floor between the two beds. He was sitting on one bed cutting cheese on a platter on the bedstand. He motioned to the opposite bed with one arm and bowed.

“The bed is ready for you, master. All you need is climb in and we’ll tuck you in and kiss you good night.” He grinned at me.

“And wake you again in one hour to make certain you haven’t died,” Kinneas added. “Doctor’s orders.”

“Hnh, I’ll take both of you one arm on the back here and now,” I challenged smiling. Dincht made an o with his mouth in mock surprise, laughed and and turned to his room mate.

“Someone needs to put his cheese where his mouth is. I say it’s time for you to go straight to bed mister!” He got up and lunged for me. I dodged, jumped up into the bed and pushed him back with one leg on his chest. The slow kick served to unbalance me on the soft mattress and Kinneas used the opportunity to take hold of me from the floor.

“Quick, grab his legs and we’ll get him in there!” he laughed, struggling to hold onto me. Zell grabbed my legs and together they put me down on the opposite bed. While fighting against their hold, I banged my jaw on Kinneas’s shoulder, sending me into waves of nausea. I stopped struggling and lay down, put one arm over my eyes and growled.

“Damn.” Kinneas and Dincht stopped jostling and let go of me.

“Awfully sorry about that,” Kinneas said.

“Accident,” I told him. “Never mind.” They both sat down on the other bed while I did my best to suppress the nausea.

“How are you feeling?” Dincht asked.

“Like hell,” I said. “Stupid Almasy never knows when to quit.” Silence. Damn. Why didn’t I ever learn to keep my mouth shut?

“Almasy?” Dincht asked. “So it was he you had a run in with?” I looked at him and nodded. Kinneas knotted his brows.

“What on earth for? Where is he by the way? Rinoa asked for him today and I said we still hadn’t seen him. I’m getting worried. He’s been gone for five days. That’s some bloody binge. I think we need to report the guy missing, unless matron has gotten word where he is.”

“Maybe he couldn’t face the exams and went back to his parents?” Dincht suggested. “That has happened before.”

“I don’t know,” I said. “I have to talk with Prof. West before I can talk with anyone else. You can regard Almasy as missing I think. I can’t say anything more, I’m sorry.”

“You didn’t… do anything to him, did you?” Dincht ventured.

“Do anything?” I asked looking up at him. “Like what?”

“Like hurt him real bad.” Dincht looked down. “Everyone knew you and he weren’t exactly friends and that you’ve both got a solid temper when the mood hits you.” I let out a little laugh and shook my head. So this was what my class mates thought of me, a pugilist and troublemaker. It hurt a bit.

“No, I didn’t hurt him, he hurt me,” I protested. “He nearly killed me dammit.” I shook my head again. “Stone cold mad he is.”

“So what happened exactly ?” Kinneas asked.

“He tried to strangle me and then, when I went after him, he slashed me in the head.”

“But why did he try to strangle you in the first place?” I looked at Kinneas.

“Forget Almasy,” I said. “He’s not the person you knew for now. Forget him, ok? I can’t say anything more. I have to see Professor West first. He’s the only person who can clear up this mess, so please don’t ask me about anything more. I’m not even sure what happened myself.” Kinneas and Dincht didn’t reply. Hoping they understood I bade them good night, pulled the blanket over me and tried to go sleep, refusing to continue the conversation with Kinneas and Dincht or wrestle with the thousand and one questions I had in my mind. My head was still throbbing and hurting, I needed rest from the current situation. Before sleep reached me I heard my room mates talk in quiet voices while they clanked the cheese knife on the china platter by the window.

I woke by the sound of my room mates dressing and preparing to leave for the day. I sat up in bed and threw the blanket aside.

“Where are you going?” Kinneas asked, climbing over the mattress on the floor to grab a sock on the other bed.

“I’m getting up,” I said. “I haven’t worked so hard for that exam to skip it today.”

“You were in a fight yesterday, remember?” Dincht commented. “And was injured.”

“I feel much better now. Very well in fact.” I stood and stretched. My belly muscles weren’t hurting any more and the dizziness was gone.

“You look much better,” Kinneas commented.

“Yes, he’s lost the panda face,” Dincht laughed, referring to my bruised eyes. I picked up a piece of cheese from the platter on the bedstand and threw it at him.

“Careful!” Dincht laughed. “That’s the only food we have left. It’s your breakfast. Help yourself if you’re hungry.” I looked down on the platter. Not having eaten in more than thirty hours, the thought of breakfast seemed tempting. I sat down on the bed and ate a few pieces of the cheese left. The cheese had a pretty characteristic smell but tasted far better than its scent suggested.

“Rather good cheese,” I commented. “It stinks!”

“Takes one to know one,” Kinneas grinned. “Here, we saved this for you as well.” He threw something soft at me which bounced off my chest and landed on the bed next to me. A piece of white bread. I hadn’t had that for breakfast in three months since my allowance ran out. I tore off a piece of bread and stuffed it in my mouth. Even a day old, the bread tasted wonderful. I chewed and felt grateful for the thoughtfulness of my co-students.

After the improvised meal, I changed into clean clothes, grabbed a few pens in my room and headed off to the exam hall together with Irvine and Zell. In the small lecture hall mainly used for graduate study lectures at the faculty, Professor Mapster was waiting for everyone to arrive. The tension in the air was palpable. The course in hyper Eucledian geometry was the last and the most difficult of the obligatory courses of the parapsychology graduate program, hyper Eucledian geometry forming the basis for understanding the movements and behaviors of certain paranormal objects in space and time, Everyone had to pass to hope to receive their diploma and the exam was usually far from easy. Adding to it the course being heavy on theoretical mathematics made the course the least popular of all the graduate courses at the faculty.

Zell and Irvine walked a few aisles up in the long room and sat down on the wooden chairs. I followed suit and placed myself a few seats away from them, at the end of the row. I folded the writing pad out and waited. As the clock approached 8.15, the room began filling up with students who distributed themselves evenly on the room’s three tiers. Then Professor Mapster began passing around sheets of ruled paper and grey surplus paper to the students.

“Finally, what you have all been looking forward to with great expectation… and great fear this term,” Professor Mapster said, holding up a stack of typed paper. He grinned while he handed the exam questions out. “You have exactly four hours to complete the exam. You’re allowed to take a break in that period, but I’ll keep an eye on you. Don’t worry, it’s not as bad as you imagine. You have all been studying hard and should be able to make it. If you have any questions to the exam, don’t hesitate to ask and I shall see if I’m allowed or merciful enough to answer them. Good luck everyone!” A few students muttered their thanks, some with and some without a sarcastic tone.

The white sheet of paper landed on my desk. I took it, scanned the five questions and chose the best sequence in which to begin solving the problems. I welcomed the mental challenge of the exam, it was something to do to keep my thoughts away from the current host of troubles.

Time passed. One of the questions I could hardly answer at all, having not had the chance to talk to Quistis about the finer points of Tore’s Theorem, one of the more specialized off shoots of hyper Eucledian geometrical theory. The other problems were solveable. Four hours later, I walked down the aisle to hand in my answer to the exam problems. Professor Mapster nodded when I put the stack of papers on the desk and wished me a good summer.

“Any chance Professor West is in his office right now?” I asked. Professor Mapster looked at me over his round rimmed glasses. He was British and was somewhat feared among the students becase of his wit and keen sense of humor. He extended left arm and peered down at his wristwatch.

“Yes, I think so if you’ve got fast legs,” he replied. “Then you can probably just catch him before he leaves for lunch.” Like I had done with everyone else the last three days, I checked the color of the leather strap of his wristwatch. Brown. Professor Mapster looked up at me. “Well, don’t just stand there waiting for the starter’s shot, run along now.” Thanking him, I hurried out of the cool and shady lecture hall and into the brilliance of the corridor outside.

“That concludes my summary of the events the last few days,” I said and looked stiffly up at Professor West. “I would be very grateful if I could receive some advice about how to proceed from here. I have few ideas how to solve the current situation.” I waited anxiously for his response. Professor West chewed on one end of his pencil.

“A most unusual case, I would say,” he began. I felt some small muscles in my knees begin to give way out of relief. Professor West believed me. I waited some more. “And you are certain of the identity of the ghoul in the library.” I nodded.

“I am certain. He responded when I called his name and I easily recognized him.”

“Hmm, most unusual. There have been some reported and confirmed cases of wilful transformation to ghouls in Boston and Arkham the last few years. Dr. Carter wrote a lenghty and fascinating report about it, it should be in the library. Well, it should be there unless it was destroyed by the intruder of course.” I nodded. I knew the report Professor West was referring to by heart.

“I told him there would be help, a cure.” I looked down. “That is correct, isn’t it? There is a way to reverse the transformation?” Professor West looked at me.

“What on earth made you believe that?” he asked. I felt some more of my knee muscles begin to give way. My head begun to pound again.

“I seem to remember a comment about that in Dr. Carter’s report,” I muttered weakly.

“So you have read it?” Prof. West asked. I nodded. “To be honest, I do not remember the report in detail, even though the events it describes happened quite recently and commanded a lot of attention in the realm of parapsychological research when it was published.” I felt my knees begin to tremble.

“But d’Erlette mentions something of “bringing the dead eaters back” in “Cultes des Goules”, doesn’t he? With “definite mastery of true and potent magick”?”

“Yes, that is true,” Prof. West replied. “You seem to have done a lot of research on the subject on your own.”

“I have been planning on writing my thesis on local paranormal phenomena from the past, try and give them a modern interpretation,” I told him. “Beginning in the fall. Dr. Carter’s report was a centerpiece of interest since it was recent and highly interesting. “Cultes des Goules” was a natural companion source since Dr. Carter cites much of his comments from the book.”

“Good choice,” Prof. West commended. “You are absolutely right and there should be lots of material to take hold of, but to be honest, I have always regarded d’Erlette’s writings to be the kind which appeared long before the dawn of medical and paranormal science and with reason has never properly tested. His theories on resurrection and necromancy may very well be genial, but they are still from a time when parapsychology was guesswork and superstition more than anything else. I did have some ideas about it many years ago, as a recently graduated medical student, and wished to test some of his theories. Nothing came out of it of course, the subject of resurrection and necromancy being highly controversial even among workers of parapsychology. No one has ever witnessed the resurrection of a living creature, much less a human and personally, I doubt it is at all possible.”

“Even with representations such as hyper Euclidean geometrical patterns as foci for time-space change?” I queried. Prof. West smiled.

“Perhaps not. Some interesting results may well come of that. However, to get back to your original question, yes it may be possible to reanimate a corpse for a limited amount of time by adding life energy to the dead flesh, but to reverse the undead state of a ghoul would require something else. How would it be possible to remove the death energy and at the same time successfully add life energy into the poor creature? I also suspect the decomposition of the body would make sustained life for the ghoul impossible unless the entire body was in some way completely remade.” I looked down, suddenly feeling dizzy.

“I understand.” I fought back tears before continuing. “Thank you for your help, Professor West. I’m very relieved you believe me. What will happen with the library now?”

“I believe you, Leonheart, don’t worry. Stranger things have happened at Miskatonic University and we are ready to deal with any and all paranormal situations. I shall explain the situation to Dean Kramer and we’ll see what we can do about the police investigation. I think it should be possible to persuade the Dean to end the police investigation since we now know who the intruder was.” I felt a nerve in my face twitch.

“Thank you, Professor West,” I said. “I am indebted to you. I feel somewhat responsible for the break in of the library... having been there.”

“There is no need to. You had no way of knowing there would be a ghoul there. Don’t worry. I of course understand your concern for your room mate. I will notify the police that he is missing. Then we need to think about what to do with that matter. Personally, maybe the best option is to leave things as they are for now. There isn’t much we can do but I will check some sources on my own, just to be on the safe side.”

“But if Almasy is a ghoul, he will be at the cemetery, won’t he? We could find him there,” I asked.

Professor West looked at me.

“I do not think such speculations are fruitful Mr. Leonheart. Granted, Dr. Carter gained contact with ghouls through his associate Richard Upton Pickman who became transformed by a ghoul himself, but remember Dr. Carter was in a rather special situation at that time. Seeking out ghouls is not without risk, as you have experienced yourself. After all, they do feed on human and animal flesh.” Professor West gave me a sharp look. “Your friend is no longer human. If we are to believe Dr. Carter, he is not alone, there are those who will take care of him. I would strongly advice you leave him alone.” That seemed to be Professor Wests final words in the matter and I decided not to press my luck any further. I nodded and thanked the professor for his time and advice. Then I exited his dimly lit office and walked out into the searing mid day sun.

The day passed. I was called to Dean Kramer’s office after lunch and he told me Professor West had informed him about the intruder and that the police investigation had been stopped. Relieved, I gave him a full report of what had happened. Before I was allowed to leave, Dean Kramer gave me a stern warning against seeking out my former room mate.

I honestly wished to follow the advice of my teachers and seniors, all rational thought supported by my uncle’s research indicated the same thing. Ghouls were to be left alone, only studied at a distance but never interacted with directly, unless they created trouble for humans by interfering with their lives first. That was the general rule when it came to dealing with all paranormal beings and doubly true for those who lived in close proximity to humans since interfering with their existence could bring trouble to the curious human and society surrounding him. These were the maxims of parapsychology; study, information and when necessary: defense, not manipulation or interaction. Parapsychology accepted the existence of what was previously seen as mythical creatures, but was adamant to keep a clear line between the existence of other beings and those of humans.

I was not sure how closely my uncle had followed these maxims. He seemed to have been too curious about the other worlds and the existences of other beings to not try to interact with them in order to gain information. To one extent that had brought him to the end of his life, but as I saw it, it was better to act than do nothing when human lives were interfered with and threatened by the activities of other beings. My uncle had not been above restricting the length of certain beings’ existences as well, if his life or those of other human beings were threatened, his private notes indicated that. I felt I now had to start down the path of my famed relative, for better or for worse. I had come to the point where I could no longer stand and watch, it was high time to act.