Your kind call me a monster as if that were an insult, something hideous and repulsive to be despised by all. Yet for all the slander you laud upon my kin, it is you who have worshiped and revered monsters throughout the ages. You, who could never reject monsters out of hand as you pretended to. There was always an interest in monsters, a certain perverseness you were incapable of denying. Monsters were great powers in their time, a force that ordinary mortals couldn’t defeat until united or championed by one who was often a monster in their own right.
Monsters… It is certainly a better title than most you lowly humans have branded my kind with. Dimensional Interlopers, Angels, Cosmic Gods, Extra-Dimensional Extraterrestrials, Devils, Outsiders; none of them captured our essence in the same way as Monsters.
Just as you changed our name, you too have changed. You humans were always changing yet never truly evolving— you’re a puzzling paradox like that. So set in the certainty of your ways, your 'Manifest Destiny' of racial dominance, that you never question why our dimensions were separated. Just as you can’t deny your interest in monsters, I can’t deny my interest in you flesh-bound slaves of time.
Time, what a peculiar concept. A single stream moving from one point to a terminal end dragging an entire dimension along with it. Experiencing time might be unpleasant in equal to being educational, I’ve weighed the risks and found the potential to be worth the expenditure. 'Elders' of my kind have hinted that this vein of inquiry will be a regression of being, knowledge too abstract and backwards to be rationalized into useful experience.
I disagree. All knowledge is useful, it's merely a matter of context.
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To term it as a human mind would comprehend, I moved to a known point, something that registered as a place of communion across the thinning veil. In truth I had no body with which to move, there was no physical place to go, nothing in my realm had a form you humans could understand as shape or mass. Just as time is a novel idea to me, you ponder on what a plane of six non-linear dimensions would look like on a two-dimensional surface. To grasp the truth of it you would need senses you lack and references I cannot provide in a manner you will understand while retaining what passes for sanity among your kind.
The end result was a telepathic broadcast to a score of humans reaching blindly across and beyond the cosmos with their minds. You humans break so easily, I sever a portion of my own thoughts and bridge the connection to one pleading fool. It asks and I offer, observing all the while. You humans think in odd patterns, the ceaseless march of time clouding the truth of the wider universe from your mortal shells. You might say I found its infantile floundering cute, though the term lacked the full scope of my thoughts. I’ve 'met' enough humans to have an adept pool of knowledge of your kind; too few of you can bridge the void and pierce the veil while most that can retreat at the first touch of my kind. To study you properly I have no choice, I must go to your dimension and 'mingle with the locals' as the linked one would say.
My folly, too much attention was driven at the human in communion. The link was severed, it resumed again but it was maddened and enraptured with the vast concept of all that was and is and will be me. I know enough about time to know it is a fundamentally different state of existence than that of my own. What had time done to the human on the other side of the veil? Time, what a novel concept but, back to the task at hand.
The thought pulses over the bridge faintly, slow but incessant. You humans break so easily, I must be more careful…