It is two in the morning.

The thundering rain has relentlessly hammered my thoughts and emotions for the past two weeks now. I believe he knows the dreary effects dark weather has on the human mind, for his chosen path of flight cuts through storms of the greatest magnitude.

The despair this weather brings is subtle and erodes my thoughts at the deepest level, the roots of my subconscious. Yes, he has learned a lot since he has been in our world, too much I fear. I can only hope that I am strong enough to cope with the darkness this weather commands over me and be ready for our duel. He has turned out more clever than I anticipated, which is the very same reason he was able to overpower us.

The people he destroyed over these few months have fed him with knowledge of frailties of the human psyche. I fear that through these victims his powers have increased to such a degree that he will annihilate me when our confrontation finally comes about. I can only hope this is not so.

At first I wept for those innocent people he tortured and mutilated, all of whom died in his preparation for destroying me. My emotions, however, have now been locked away; and I grieve no longer. I am numb to their silent screams. Their deaths are felt at my deepest level where I quickly stifle all emotion from rising to my consciousness. For those emotions can destroy me if they become too powerful and hamper my judgment in even the slightest of ways.

I have debated the consequences of recording the happenings of our sad misadventures. Since our outright negligence of bringing him into this world, my mind has disputed letting it be known what we have done. I have decided to lay down this knowledge, this verbal account, so that if I fail in my quest for redemption someone may use this history in a constructive manner, possibly to have an edge on him. Hopefully it does not come to that, for there are very few of us left throughout the world; and the time draws nigh when the knowledge I possess will be locked away from the curious forever.

Please, have no doubts in that our original intent was of the purest nature; but we pushed our limits and for that mistake I humbly bow low in deepest sorrow to all of humanity for our grave error.

Thunder rolls across the sky as I am speaking, stirring natural fears of which I have no control. It may well be the death of me.

I will be stopping shortly at a coffee shop; at least I think that's what it will be. The place is still farther up the road yet, maybe a minute or two away. The green of the fluorescent lights blinking through the dark night is all that I see. I pray that it is flashing open, for the storm is heavy on my mind and causing me to doubt my abilities. Human companionship will raise my spirits, for my life teeters precariously on that very basic principle of positive and negative, darkness and light.

High above, black clouds roll endlessly in every direction, horizon to horizon. And so does the rain. Blue webs of lightning crackle across the night sky, exposing this dark reality. I long to feel the warm glow of the sun upon my skin, those memories of its warmth as far away as time itself.

I hope he is merely trying to darken my thoughts with his constant choice of stormy ground, these magnificent examples of earth's power. But something deep in the recess of my mind tells me my assumption is false. My little voice tells me this is only half his intentions. That voice tells me he feeds on the storm's rage, which would make terribly good sense. And if indeed he draws power from the elements, this battle may already be over. I can only hope my strength will endure.

It was a coffee shop that I saw back there, for it is before me now, just off the highway. Briefly, I will be leaving you for a bit of a rest and some idle chatter, all with the intentions of raising my spirits, for that is all that I have left.

The people were very nice to me. They were an older couple, who I believe to have been the proprietors. She accepted my request without even a hint of suspicion. An envelope I gave her, containing many documents and illustrations of which our mistakes are clearly mapped out. I asked her to mail it for me tomorrow. She smiled politely and refused my offer of money. She even stamped it for me, no charge. I saw her name tag, and my sadness grew. I think they could see the despair on my face. They did cheer me up though, with the talk of simple things in life that most people ignore, of memories and times I have never known. My decision to stop seems to have been wise.

I restricted myself to water since my energy level must be at its peak at all times. I must always be ready for confrontation of the worst kind. I left a tip underneath the newspaper, a small pouch containing the following: deeds to all properties that I own, my will, and the last of my cash, which amounted to a few hundred dollars. I don't think I'll be needing it where I'm going.

His power is so strong now; I can feel his presence even at this great distance. My time is coming. His darkness encroaches upon my very soul.

I have resumed my personal trip to hell. The rains seemed to have increased in my brief stopover. It seems to have darkened out here, if that is possible. My clothes are soaked to my skin. Picture, if you will, that the distance from the diner to my car was a scant 15 feet at most. Maybe that can describe the severity of rainfall, for I am at a loss for words of adequate description.

Besides, before it is too late, I must recount to you what brought me to this terrible confrontation, for I feel my death is near.

First, let me tell you why I keep referring to him as if he were actually a human being, a mortal with a soul and a body. He that now stalks this earth is neither human nor ghost. It is a thing that once was a spirit of god; but it fell like so many others, its own greed snuffing out its mortal existence and casting it to another dimension for all eternity.

I cannot say the name of this being, for the very utterance of those words can threaten my existence. I have to try to get as close to him as possible before I allow my presence to be known. You must at least understand this. My reason for speaking of him in mortal terms is simple: my mind will lose its unsteady grasp on sanity if I think of him in actuality. If I should allow the truth of his being to violate my mind, my death would come by my own hand rather than the path I now go.

I can tell you a few things about him. He is a being of immense power that threatens the human race. He will not let his true self be known. Those of you who wish to find him must consciously seek him and pray to God that you cannot feel his presence. If you do, your life will be in turmoil from that point on and I sincerely wish you the best of luck in your attempt to destroy him.

The heater has kicked in now and I am warming up nicely thank you. The wipers are useless. I am forced to drive slowly now. Only fifteen miles per hour. My sight is hampered in that of the physical, but my senses are still sharp. I can still see in terms of energy and for the moment I am safe.

He will choose a place that will play on my strongest fears, for he knows my deepest thoughts. His probing has caused me restless sleep that will undoubtedly add to my defeat.

(brief, bitter laughter . . .)

A poet, you say? Maybe so, but it was far from intentional. Truly, I wish I could laugh with you; but I cannot. My destiny is as an open book now, and the ending is dire.

I talk as if I am bound to lose; this I know is in confusion to you. Why must I willingly go towards him, knowing that I will die? I will try to explain.

His reign of terror is partly my fault, partly mine and four others who tapped into powers we could not possibly comprehend or hope to control. And for that mistake I give my life in hope that I can drag him with me wherever I am bound to go. But as the distance shortens, I fear the worst may come to pass. So it is to whoever hears my last words that I pass on the quest for mankind in hopes they will raise my fallen torch and carry on the light it symbolizes.

The four others passed away at his hand. We were trying to call forth another being, but he sensed us in that other world and inquired on our happenings, much to Mother Earth's dismay. His presence was known to us throughout our ritual. From the earliest inklings of power, we could feel him outside our circle looking in at us. At first he seemed merely a spirit curious in our magic, busily moving about trying to get a better look. But that was where we made our mistake. For you see, he was testing our protection, trying desperately to find a weak spot so he could breach our circle and enter this world of the living. Unfortunately, he did find such a weakness. I believe a stone was the cause of our disaster. A stone that was part of our outside circle, a hairline fracture in it hidden to the naked eye. It was the foundation for the protection from earth, the direction you know as west. I know this because that is where he broke through the ring. Sharon was first to die, and she was acting guardian over the elementals of earth. She did die quickly, though, if that is of any comfort to you. But her soul, I can only hope she did not lose her soul.

He moved fast once inside the circle. He knew our concentration would be focused on our ritual, and our reaction would be slowed. The others died in the same manner as Sharon, quick and painful. I know this, not because I heard their cries of anguish, but because I felt their pain -- sudden, sharp agony that rent their bodies, since I was the most aware in terms of those subtle energies that surround us at all times.

So it was I who survived, my instincts bringing up my guard at the last. I don't know exactly how I did it, only that I awoke in the rising sun, my body weak and my mind delirious from the exertions of the night. The others lay about me, their bodies broken and lifeless. Where the circle had been ruptured lay the powdery remains of that stone. If only we would have been more careful . . . .

I wept for nearly three hours, never rising from my station, knowing what a terrible thing we had unleashed on this world.

So now you know a brief history of us and how he came to this earth by our hands.

I have stopped my car now, for his presence I strongly feel. The fields seem endless from here in all directions. This hill the car now rests on is where I will begin my last quest. Life is truly precious, and it is sad that I only now do I recognize the value of living. Every breath, every movement I make with this miraculous body I cherish . . . .

(silence . . . distantly you hear rain . . . thunder rolls . . . )

He has chosen well for our encounter. My feelings of fear are almost overwhelming me.

The cornfields truly seem vast in their depth. And they are tall, so tall. These I must travel through to a lone house I now see standing off in the distance. This house stands upon a hill much like the one where I will leave my car. Darkness surrounds it. Indeed, I think the darkness that I have been traveling through comes from this house.

Although I cannot feel it directly, the wind is blowing hard and strong; for my car is gently rocking from its fury. The cornstalks blow madly in the distance, as if they were alive and crying out in unison to a deity high above for protection.

His presence is quickly growing stronger. My element of surprise has been spoiled. But I am not lost yet. Please, if you are listening, aid me with your thoughts of my victory.

My name is David Sands, and every bit of this accounting is true and is happening at this very moment. Do not let my warning go unheeded! Ignorance provides a very dangerous bliss this world cannot afford.

Christ warned us of his coming; it is only with deep regret that I am to blame for fulfilling his prophecy.

I must go now, lest I be utterly destroyed. Farewell.

You listen intently and hear a strangely familiar sound . . . yes, it is a car door; and it just shut. In the background you hear the driving rain pound David's car, wherever that may be. You almost change frequencies; but then a wrenching sound tears through your speaker, causing you to freeze in mid-reach with the chills it sends. Something inhuman and horribly strong is ravaging David's car.

He is in the car now . . . his breathing heavy, raspy . . . angry. You can sense his rage, for he knows what David has done. He knows you were listening. The sounds of his fury reach intolerable levels before they are cut off from the destruction of David's radio.

Only static remains.

You turn off the ham radio. Outside it is raining softly, only a drizzle this morning. Was it merely a prank? You think not. Deep down inside you know the danger David has revealed to you is real. For in those lower levels of mind, just beyond your conscious reach, you can feel his presence.

And you know he has come.