“It all started when my son—what's that?—yes, Officer, the one you call 'the victim' . . . it all started when he wanted to dress up as Cthulhu for Halloween.
“That's spelled C-T-H-U-L-H-U. You never heard of it? Anyway, he did the best he could to cobble together a costume. He took an old Godzilla mask and stapled green pipe cleaners onto it to look like tentacles. He had crude wings made out of coat hangers and pillow cases. Yes, I understand that's what he was wearing at the time of death. Yes, I understand that's strange, since today's only the 26th.
“Look, the kid was all into Lovecraft, just like I am. We're big fans! He put on his outfit each day after school. Then he started hanging out by that tree in the backyard. Two days ago, I found a dismembered turtle back there. Yesterday, I found a mutilated kitten.
“I had to put an end to it. I know this sounds crazy, but did you ever notice how on an autumn day the wind can sound like a voice? Like a premonition? It was whispering to me: 'Stop him, or you'll be next!'. When I went out there, I saw two glowing triangles carved in the tree. He told me: 'This one's for the turtle, and this one's for the cat'. Then there was a third glowing triangle that wasn't yet done—just two sides carved. 'This one—it's for you'. Then he showed me the knife.
“So it was self-defense, Officer. As the wind whispered its final urgent plea, the behemoth began to stir. I had to stop the ritual! You see, he was raising a Great Old One. I had no choice!”
Nicole Cushing loves Cthulhu and fanboys (just not enough to kill for them). She lives with her husband in Southern Indiana. www.nicolecushing.com