I haven't told a soul about what had happened on that day in May, 1926. I have kept it a secret for years now, and on my deathbed, I shall relate to the public about what happened on May 19. It is a secret that I have kept for forty two years now, yet I know that if I don't speak up now who knows what will happen if someone has the same idea as Patrick Doyle.

I had been alone at home when I had received a visitor. I eagerly let him in, as I had been alone for most of my life, and a visitor was considered a blessing to me. He had dark hair and a rugged face. After indicating a hook for him to place his coat on, I led him into the living room, where I had been reading a book on agriculture. I offered him a seat and immediately went off to the kitchen to fetch a couple of glasses and a bottle of wine.

I came back into the living room and saw my guest standing by the window, looking out at the storm that was going on. "No sound can come in through these windows, right?" he asked as he closed the curtain again (since he had opened it so that he could gaze at the storm).

"Why no." I replied. "Anybody in here can't hear anything outside, and anybody outside can't hear anything in here."

"That is good." My guest said as he moved back to the chair and sat down in it.

I sat down and poured some wine in both bottles. He accepted it and took a sip while I poured myself a glass of wine. We sat there in silence for a few seconds before I mentioned that we hadn't even properly introduced each other yet.

He gave a small smile and nodded. "Why yes, it appears we haven't." He extended his hand and I shook it. "I am Patrick Doyle, a psychologist from Virginia." he said as he let go of my hand.

"I'm Arthur Jenkins, a farmer who lives out here, trying to make a profit on some of my crops." I said as I held up my agriculture book.

"I saw your crops on the way up. They look like they are in fine shape," Patrick said.

I thanked Patrick for the complement and took another sip of my wine. After putting the wine on the table, I saw that he had a serious look on his face. "Tell me, Arthur, have you ever heard anything strange whenever there's a storm like this one around here?" he asked while pointing towards the window.

After replying that I haven't Patrick looked back at the window and sighed. "I see…" he said while taking another sip of his wine.

"What do you mean by that, Patrick?" I asked curiously.

"Well, you see, Arthur, I came up to this area, hoping to find some explanation for the suicide of Mark Finley, a patient at the mental institution that I work at." Patrick said while taking a piece of paper from a suitcase that he brought inside with him.

"Was he schizophrenic?" I asked as Patrick handed me the paper.

"He wasn't diagnosed with schizophrenia. He was sent to the institution because he kept going on and on about being followed whenever it rained. I had only one session with him." Patrick explained as he handed me the paper. "What you see here is something that he wrote just ten minutes before he hung himself," he said as he pointed to what was written on the paper.

I looked over it. It read:

"I hear it. I hear it. I hear Zwefen'dner. He- She- It- I don't know how to describe it. All I know is that Zwefen'dner is in Cumulonimbus clouds and that it travels all over the world. In order to hear Zwefen'dner, you have to focus whenever it is raining. Shut out all of the other noises- including the rain itself- and you will hear Zwefen'dner's footsteps."

That was it. That was all the paper said. I handed the paper back to Patrick and took another sip of wine. "Did you ask Mark what made him go crazy?" I asked.

"You mean when I had the one session with him?" Patrick asked. I nodded, and he took another sip of wine. "I only asked him one question. It was raining and he went on and on about how he could hear it. I asked him what it was that he heard, and the only thing he said was "Zwefen'dner". After he answered, he asked if he could go back to his room. I let him, seeing as how upset he was. I planned on speaking to him again when the weather was nicer. I never got the chance to speak to him again, because he committed suicide that night." he said.

Patrick's queer tale was quite chilling. I have heard some scary stories in my life, but I have never heard anything like this. As I brought my glass of wine up to my mouth, Patrick suddenly got up and walked to the front door. "Thank you for the wine, Arthur. It was very good." he said as he got his coat on.

"Are you going back into that storm?" I asked.

"Yes, I am. I must find out what it is that made Mark Finley go insane. The only way I can do that is go out into the storm and focus." he said.

And so he did. He went out into the storm. I followed him to the door. Once I reached the door, I saw that Patrick was nowhere to be found. Had he simply vanished, or was he a ghost? I couldn't make up my mind as to what the answer was. Then I thought about what Mark Finley wrote. It was worth a shot.

I closed my eyes and focused on what he was talking about. I shut out all of the other noises.

After two minutes of silence, I started to hear footsteps approaching. I opened my eyes and immediately screamed.

There were a lot of people outside my house, and Patrick Doyle was one of them. All of them were dead. And among all of those people who had started walking away in another direction, I heard the footsteps. But these footsteps didn't belong to Patrick Doyle or one of the other people. It belonged to some unseen entity that I didn't see. Yet, for some strange reason I knew what it was that made the footsteps. The being that made the footsteps was none other than Zwefen'dner.

The characters in this story are fictional. Any resemblance between them and anyone in real life is purely coincidental. This is my second Cthulhu Mythos story. My other Cthulhu Mythos story, "The Smell From The Sewers", was very short- although it was good nonetheless. It was started while I was working on this one. Because of how short it is, I don't expect "The Smell From The Sewers" to get a lot of reviews (either good or bad), but that's okay. And yes, I put a bit of an author's note at the end of "The Smell From The Sewers", but I put it in after I had published the story, So you might not see the author's note that I put in it. But one of the things it says is that the characters in "The Smell From The Sewers" are fictional and that any resemblance between them and characters in real life is purely coincidental. And that's all I have to say for my author's note(s). Please read and review.