i was there when they were building it...
(unfinished)

i was there when they were building it, watching under uncomfortable grey skies as the tower was constructed; watching the hunks of grey metal hoisted into place and bolted together with a pneumatic hammering fit to wake the dead.
the building which, we know, was to become the tower of the exaltation of evil, housing on its lower floors the labyrinth of madness, and above, what no mortal may wot of and retain his wits...
and at the opening, as the smiling vice-chancellor cut the ribbon before the flicker-flicker of the newspaper photographers, it is said that a darkness fell over the city, and scores of miles around: that the doors of the tower had opened but a crack and palpably sucked something from the world, and down, down, where it was lost;
and since then, the men and women of science, hiding fitfully in the buildings round about, did never again utter truth to one another, and all further attempts to make sense of their world were confounded, and ruined, until every one of them became quite mad, and as the students and townspeople began to keep away from the site, seldom was anything heard of them again...

one early story to survive was that of the doom of professor dick abram, who entered the labyrinth after damian hampshire, carrying a ball of string. but it was found that even string did turn against him, tricking him into walking round in circles until he finally succumbed: the string was pulled out of the labyrinth in an attempt, far too late, to save the professor; what was found attached to the end, it is said, was a severed hand, clutched tight around it so that no man could prise his fingers away.

but of the fate of damian hampshire less is known. there were accounts of him being seen stalking the roof of the tower, and of his appearance having changed but subtly: a black circle of darkness about his head, and great shadows sprouting from his back, that looked a bit like wings... but who could trust such stories? for atop the tower was a ring of black flame, burning colder than the icy blasts of the ninth circle of hell, which chilled the very souls of men who walked near: and robbed them of all hope, and of their sight, and finally their wits; so that they crawled on their bellies, not uttering a sound, their breath ragged, their hands and knees raw, and bleeding...