From the Journal of Noah Davies

Dated November 17, 1912.


I brought the statue to work with me last Friday, hoping that the Dean of Anthropology, Dr. Stephen Locksley, might be able to clue me in on the finer details of the structure's origins. Having wrapped it in an old table cloth, I felt the need to disguise and hide it as I carried it with me. As I walked from the gate to King Hall, I felt a strange tiredness wash over me. I can only imagine how many times I yawned in that ten minute stroll. Must contact physician regarding recent lethargy.

Upon unveiling the statue in front of Locksley, he seemed rather unimpressed. He circled the damned thing repeatedly, letting out an occasional click of the tongue or grunt of amusement. Upon finishing his inspection, he asked me if he could take a sample of the strange black crystalline figure, which he admitted he planned on conferring to the Archaeology Department for further study. I refused, stating that until he revealed something regarding the statue's origin to me, that the object would remain untouched by anyone aside from myself. To this, he sighed, and told me he could not identify the true origin of the figure, or the runic engraving on the base. Locksley has always been an incredibly prideful man, and this admittance of his vanity further enraged me, adding further to my growing exhaustion, despite my day having only just begun.

But in this pride, he had revealed all he knew, and this was enough to satisfy me. I granted him permission to take a very small sample from the statue. Locksley left the office and returned a moment later with a series of tools wrapped in a black leather sash, which smelled of cigarette smoke and sullen earth. His queer but steady hands reached for a pointed silver hammer. Holding the odd black statue steady, he tapped it with the tip of the hammer. His face wrinkled in discontent. He tried again, with more gusto. Still nothing. Not even a dent or scratch in the surface of the tentacle he had chosen as his testing point. Locksley would continue on this path with several other instruments, ranging from blunt to sharp tools, but each, more and more, were completely ineffective in damaging or chipping the statue's black, crystalline surface. He finally gave up after almost forty minutes of this futile activity, and smashed his fists on the desk.

He implored me to allow the University to take possession of the figure for the weekend. Though hesitant, I was enraptured by the idea of not having to lug the surprisingly heavy object back to my home, and I gave in, granting him my approval. He seemed to be simultaneously taken by appreciation and frustration, and gave me the name of the Archaeology colleague he would be consulting: Prof. Jameson Small. He also informed me that he would show the runic symbols to Mary Henderson, an Associate Professor of Linguistics. I thanked him for his intense interest, and went on to instruct two classes over the course of the day, suddenly reinvigorated.

I returned home that evening, sans statue, and slept for over 14 hours, awakening at around 2 in the afternoon, utterly baffled at my sleeping habit.

It is now Sunday, and I find myself incredibly anxious. I do hope the statue is being handled with care. I would hate for anything unpleasant to happen to it. I shall be retrieving it at my first opportunity tomorrow morning. If Locksley has allowed any damage to come to it, I will wring his neck dry.

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