Chatterbox: Inkwell

Lovecraft Fanfiction!

This was for YWP. I would like help. Tell me anything that you think I need to fix.

Here is the first chapter:   My name is West. Herbert West. I am a necromancer, and a doctor. 

I was once alone. Alone and without ally. But I have learned my lesson. My story starts one blustery, wet, cold day, when I was sitting in the living room of my apartment. I had a large, black, heavy book on my lap, and I was rapidly reading. My living room was small, square, and full of those stupid Ikea chairs, mostly in weird colors. My chair was a particularly odd shade of green, and had the disadvantage that it made me recline in a bizarre position. But I was so engrossed in my reading that I could be dying of thirst in the middle of the desert, and I would not have moved. 

Just as I began to finished my section, I only had about five sentences left, my phone beeped. 

"Hello?" I said.

"Ah, good." A female voice said. 

"Yes? What do you want?" 

"It's my son."

"I am sorry. I am off of working hours. Could you please go to the hospital. I can meet you tomorrow..."

"No- I need your help. I have been talking to some friends of yours, and they say you can help. He has summoned... something."

"Oh... What is his name?"

"Wilbur Whiteley."