Amidst trembling hands and frenzied fervor, H.P. Lovecraft was diligently etching out his latest foray into the realm of novels. The author was clinging onto the solace found within the confines of his prose, yet it yielded naught but a scant reprieve from the intricate abyss of his tormented psyche.

A noise—a terrible, hideous sound—pierces the silence and jolts him out of his creative stupor. Is this it? Has the day come at last?

He turns to you with a puzzled look. “Who are you?"