“Thus I was driven to vague and frightful speculations concerning the whereabouts of my true self during the years that another had held my body. The curious knowledge and strange conduct of my body’s late tenant troubled me more and more as I learned further details from persons, papers, and magazines.” – H.P. Lovecraft, The Shadow Out of Time
It seemed natural – I’d look into it. Piece together that gap of memory. When I tried to track down some evidence, the lack of it was more than a little strange.
Burned up papers and wiped out hard drives and chipless cell phones and reticent neighbours. Did I plan out so carefully when to claim my faculties? That’s conveniently strange.
This fax from Commodore Davie of the Royal New Zealand Navy read “The files you requested are now classified.”
Strange parallels inside strange layer on layer. Strange coincidences, strange inconsistencies.
Somebody trashed my apartment. Spray-painted “STOP ASKING.”
I’m being shadowed by tattooed ESL shabaroons.