In sum, my life's work is in your hands. I assume some day these withered hands will begin to recount my life in more linear and detailed fashion, but that may never come to be (SM- a prediction which we know later became half-true) and so I must use this as my only chance to impel you, my captive, to the work which remains.
Many creatures, especially those not of Western canon, remain unexamined in detail. Scientific rigor and a personal bravery must be used in order to better understand the world openly derided by so many but known by a few as truly extent. This underworld, the paranormal, the occult, &c, possesses little in the way of presentable advocates. In some ways this is a fair thing: you wouldn't want every young mother to see what my eyes have seen, for instance. That said, this text may some day be deciphered (SM- imagine my surprise when I read this) and should that day come, I hope it will immediately flood into the boulevard, as Pericles would say, where all good things must go.
"I returned, and saw under the sun, that the race is not to the swift, nor the battle to the strong, neither yet bread to the wise, nor yet riches to men of understanding, nor yet favour to men of skill; but time and chance happeneth to them all."
Charles Ian Stanton, April 18th, 1979.