Necronomicon: Book of Dead

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1

It was in the fall of 1932...

when I discovered that a copy

of the fabled Necronomicon...

was here in America...

being guarded by a clandestine

order of Om Yati monks.

Obtaining this legendary

tome was vital...

not only to my writings...

but to the fate of all mankind.

- Wait for me.

- As you wish, sir.

For within the pages

of the Necronomicon...

lie the very secrets of the universe.

Both past, and future.

- Yes?

- Yes, I have an appointment.

Howard P. Lovecraft.

Mr. Lovecraft...

always a treat.

And how can we indulge you this time?

Mr. Lovecraft!

Actually, I'm here because a new story

of mine demands a bit of fact checking.

Fact checking?

We were under the impression

you dealt in fiction.

My work is wrongly construed as

fiction by the lesser minded.

In fact I take great pride in

presenting fictional possibilities.

It's my duty, after all,

as a human being...

to enlighten the darkest

depths of experience...

to expose certain secrets...

unjustly hoarded by others.

We shall see.

Oh, yes.

Ah, no no. It's the, uh...

Alchemical Encyclopedia.

You didn't say which volume.

Oh, which volume?

It's volume three, of course.

Please try to remember...

that if you leave this area unattended,

for any reason whatsoever...

we will be forced

to revoke your privileges.

Yes. Yes, of course.

The Necronomicon!

"The Drowned"

Today...

the last descendant of the

De Lapoer line returned from Sweden.

Not only to claim title to the crumbling

remains of the family estate...

but also to escape his own

haunted memories.

As soon as I read the will

I had to come.

Have a look-see. This is

really a very strange place.

Interesting.

The hotel is not in

very good condition.

The uncle died about 60 years ago,

and since then, it stayed empty.

Sixty years?

Yes! I wasn't in charge of

the original inheritance.

Well, things apparently dragged on and...

and I inherited this case along with...

my father's practice.

Thanks.

Your welcome.

Anyway, the important thing

is that we found you.

I tell you, it was a real b*tch tracking

you down over in Sweden.

But then, we were looking for a Delapoer,

not a De Lapoer.

I didn't change my name.

De Lapoer is the original spelling

and pronunciation.

Good lord!

You know, you could have

broken your neck!

Yes, how tragic.

I told you, the wallpaper's the only

thing holding this old place together.

You're better off just having

the whole place demolished.

We made it.

When we were here before...

I mean, my clerk and me,

he's a law student...

we didn't have any

trouble with the stairs.

I don't think this hotel likes you.

You came here with your clerk?

Well, it isn't the kind of place

a girl likes to be alone in.

Besides, he was dying to

have a look at the hotel...

after hearing all the stories

from the old folk in the village.

Kevin, that's his name, Kevin.

He's from these parts, and...

Well, the hotel has one hell of a reputation.

That's the sound of water.

The ground under the hotel

is honeycombed with caves...

hollowed out by water

flowing in from the sea.

One day the whole place is going to

crumble right down into them.

I tell you, Edward...

you really should sell.

This land is going to be worthless.

That's quite a bed, isn't it?

So, ah...

what were we talking about?

We were talking about

the effect that this hotel...

had on your young clerk.

Right.

Well, it's like something out of

a gothic romance isn't it?

Who's that?

Hmm, you wouldn't know.

That's Emma De Lapoer, your aunt.

She died quite young, quite tragically.

Drowned in a shipwreck.

And all gossip about the hotel

started at that time.

Jethro De Lapoer was never

the same afterword.

He followed her to the grave

just a few days after the tragedy.

How did he die?

They found him below their balcony

from what I heard.

Clara!

No one knows if he...

if he fell, or what happened.

It's too bad crabs can't talk.

Just a minute, I have

something for you.

It came with the will.

I think it's from

Jethro De Lapoer himself.

Would you at least think about

what I told you, Edward?

Sell the property, or turn it

into something more upbeat.

The only thing living in the hotel

is a lot of ugly memories.

Goodbye, Miss Gelmore.

Sixty years.

I am writing under an

appreciable strain...

since by tonight I shall be no more.

I can bear my pain no longer...

and shall cast myself

from this window...

onto the razor-like reefs below...

sharpened by thousands of storms.

If I can't find redemption...

at least there'll be oblivion.

It all happened when I returned

from a long tiring voyage.

My wife Emma...

my 8 year old son, Yon came with me.

They were my pride.

After weeks at sea we were finally back.

The New England coast was in sight

when the storm took us by surprise.

In less time than it takes

to write these words...

our ship was driven onto the

rocks at the foot of the cliffs...

we'd been watching for days.

It took hours for the

help to reach us.

By God, this one's alive!

He's alive!

My God!

There, there.

My wife.

My-my wife, my son.

Calm down, Jethro.

You have a high fever.

That's right.

What are you doing?

Don't move, we have to

let all the poor blood out.

Oh, no!

Why?

Why!?

Let it be known by all,

from here forth...

let any God who takes from me...

my only love and progeny...

is no longer welcome in my home!

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