Extract from the journal of Dr Headonious Burro of Miskatonic University
Friday 7th May 1909
8am – Oh god! They… I can not write this, I can not. Those animals! Those godforsaken animals! They have… I can’t stop being sick when I think about them… hung there… their skin… their faces… their eyes… Professor Delcon and Professor Heron are… are dead. Hidayat rushed out to help and they… they speared her right through! The bloody savages! We can not get to them – they have us pinned down!
1pm – The drums. They have been playing the drums all day long. We have made a barricade of crates behind the dig site – thank god the savages won’t cross the hole, but they can still reach us with their damned spears. Professor Ruttenberg has been picking the devils off with a rifle – damn fine shot, that man. Professor McMillan has brought AMAT behind the crates where she murmurs to me so sweetly, counting and singing.
5pm – AMAT has been hit! A spear passed over a crate and caught to the edge of her head. Oddly enough, it seemed to fix whatever the storm had managed to break. Her eyes flicked open and looked directly at the startled Professor McMillan and told him, in her soft melodious voice, that he was going to die in twenty four hours. Poor man was so spooked he broke cover and ran down towards the beach – if Ruttenberg hadn’t managed to drag him down, he would have been felled by a dozen spears. Now she looks at me and whispers to me.
9pm – Night is setting in. Darkness comes. Our friends remain out there, hung from the trees by their own flayed skins. Oh god, what if they come tonight? Oh my dear Pollyanna… how I would dearly love to be holding your soft hand right now, instead of this revolver. Why is my hand trembling so? Why must they play those damn drums!