by Jeff Barnhart

Created on: August 03, 2008   Last Updated: August 04, 2008

The End of Gideon Page

In the style of H. P. Lovecraft

For man to survive in this world the most insurmountable force he must overcome is that fear that plagues all of us at one time or another in our miniscule but varied life; the fear of death. All of the living things on this planet are destined to perish save for the hand of God. The sciences have yet to find a cure for the cursed grim reapers arrival on each of our doorsteps at a time at which none of us are accustomed to seeing. But, aside from the dastard deed with which this being comes forth, we as human beings are put upon this earth and must make of ourselves what we are destined to become, save we become food for our reapers.

New Harbor stretches along the riverside as far as ones eyes could see. Of this place what took superiority and what we were pompous about was the tower. This building of brick and mortar had been the first of it's kind constructed on the land that now occupies the middle-town of New Harbor. It is told that one can climb the tower and upon reaching the very top, see the circumference of the world. Such thoughts are obviously given only to men and women of little or no intelligence. However, during the period of 1936 through 1942 the tower held no special power for the people of New Harbor, save for the ticking of the all powerful clock, that revealed how long the inhabitants of this town were going to suffer their horrific and gradual descent into hell itself.

My great father, Bostiane Page, was once quoted as saying, "All things will come to those who plan well and work hard, save the grim reaper from his deed." His quotations were well known around New Harbor and yet as these things sometimes do, none of his learned thoughts came forth with present truths. He was the Theologian and toiled long days at his craft. Ultimately and tragically, he failed at gaining his place in the New Harbor society that ruled our lives and the lives of all that held place in our village, and all that wanted to live. Yet as I grew from young and innocent in the ways of New Harbor to strong and wise in the ways of events not foreseen by anyone, I pondered why townsfolk and guardians did not take my father's quotations as word and thought of them as gibberish.

It was in the chilled winter of 1936 that my abilities were beginning their fruition to maturity. I was studying chemistry at the University of Edmonton when I met Hammersymth Harrington, the Professor of Chemistry at the university. His squatted

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