I stood on the Bleak Shore today and received by assignment. The sand felt soft beneath my toes as the storm rolled on the horizon and the waves lapped at the shore. I loved this place. Others often felt uncomfortable here, uneasy at the lack of people or animals or even sounds, but not me. As soon as I set foot on the Shore, I felt at peace.
This is my assignment. Writing this blog. My masters, which have been called the Spirits of the Storm, the Bright Flock, the Convocation, as well as many other names, have seen a rise of knowledge about their existence lately. They have appeared previously (with such given names as the Ziz or the Thunderbirds), but now they wish me to keep track of those who know about them.
I wish to emphasis something: this blog is only a means to keeping track of those who have discovered the existence of my masters. I was not given the task of eliminating them or torturing them and I would not want to anyway. I am their eyes and ears and nest. There are others who have given themselves over completely and become claws and beaks and complete sharpness. I have met some.
But I will merely keep track. I am an observer, a writer. A Quill, as the others designated me.
My nom de plume shall be the Midwich Cuckoo. (I always had a fondness for old science fiction.) I hope this is a fruitful assignment.
