The Pages of Madness
As of writing this I am under a sizeable deal of mental anguish and once the supply of the drug which makes living the least bit bearable diminishes, I will be left with no capacity to withstand the torture and I will hurl myself from this garret window into the squalid square below. Do not consider me cowardly in view of my dependence on the morphine which prevents my mental undoing, for once you have read these cursorily scrawled pages you may gain some brief semblance, although I don’t expect you to fully realise, why it is that I long for the sweet forgetfulness of death.
It was midday and the poisoned sky had opened unleashing a cascade of heavy rain. I slammed my empty whiskey glass down onto my desk, disturbing the dust that had been gathering there. Rain hammered against the office window from which I watched as distant vessels withdrew over the horizon. As I did so I pondered about an old tome that I had uncovered whilst trawling through my late grandfather’s old belongings. That book, that chronicle. I hadn’t opened it but my mind wouldn't cease theorising about its possible contents. Its foreign carvings and alien ideographs haunted me whenever I closed my eyes, I’d never seen something so out of this world, and I couldn’t fathom a reason as to why my grandfather had possessed such a wicked thing. I had to have it. Besides it’s not like the chief would notice if I slipped out in my interim, I’ve barely any paperwork, and that vacuous fool will believe just about any tarradiddle that his detective regaled him with. I grabbed my jacket, flipped up the leather collar and carefully slipped out of the Plymouth police station into the unfettered tempest.
My grandfather’s house faced the waterfront which forced me to traverse the docks which was something that I detested. I scorned the fetid smell of foul fish and the stomach churning scent of brine, should I have known a more efficient shortcut then I would've avoided that wretched place like the plague. As I drew near to the docks I could hear the confabulation of dock hands becoming louder and I could see men hauling nets of wriggling fish and hoisting crates onto boats. I inched towards the rotting steps and descended onto the docks, trying to evade the smell of the watery feculence below. As I did so the once loquacious workers fell silent and I could no longer hear the conglomerate of chatter, or the seagulls or even the babbling of the rancid ocean beneath. The entire dock fell into a frozen stasis and I soon felt the burning gaze of dozens of statues clad in mustard rain macs penetrate my soul. I drew my collar further up, in an attempt to conceal myself, before hurriedly making my way to the other side of the docks and away from the yellow quiescent statues. As I scaled the second set of wooden stairs, I began to hear whispers and mummers from behind me and as I cleared the vicinity of the docks I could again hear the sounds of the waves roaring and the gulls laughing. Finally I could see the black painted wood that made up the destitute abode that once housed my withdrawn grandfather and I made my way across the cesspit that is the street leading up to my destination.
I trudged across the claggy grass to the decaying building, there had been a time where there was a path here however, it is evident that over the years nature has regained control. I unlocked the large wooden portal and I was inside my grandfather’s desolate home. The interior of the building was charred, and treacherous debris littered the damp living room floor. As I stood there surveying the rotting wooden interior a foul, putrid miasma beset my nostrils. I turned away from the living room and climbed the flight of crumbling steps that led up to the old attic door. I pulled down the hefty loft door releasing a cloud of smut and filth as well as a set of cold metal rungs. Clearing my diaphragm of any dirty soot I ascended the ladder into that frigid gambrel. Once I had reached the top, I saw it. The bronze case exactly where I had left it, partially blanketed with dust. I kneeled before the bronze case and rubbed my hands along its cold metallic surface as I admired its numinous beauty. The cover of the copper-coloured capsule depicted a cyclopean monolith surrounded by a congregations of alien beings as well as other gangling things. When I lifted the metallic lid, my head became a bombinating vacuum filled with the echoes of a deep, unintelligible language, and as I raised up the tattered book my heart thrashed against my breast. When I finally overset the faded cover what I saw was beyond any level of comprehension.
If I could convey the full magnitude of the macabre horror that cursed my senses, then you may be capable of forming even a slither of faculty in regard to the mental anguish that I currently find myself in. Before me heaved an ineffable sprawl of festering eyes and other revolting things that sagged. It was partially self-luminating and it emitted alien colours that were foreign to my own spectrum. It moved too, its form shifted, and it seemed to twist and morph. I quickly flipped over the writhing amalgamation to rid myself of the horror only to find a blank page. I lowered my shaking hand onto the page and ran my finger along its smooth surface, as I did so a symbol begin to materialise before me. I did not know what that symbol meant or where it came from but as I watched the inky hieroglyph appear, I began to hear a soft choir chant all around, they spoke a different language which at first, I believed to be Latin, but I could not understand a word spoken. As I stared into the black inky symbol which ran down the page I knew at that moment what must be done. It must be fed. I flipped over the page revealing the twisting fleshy mass, its eyes watched me as they travelled across the page morphing in and out of existence, the choir song now bellowing over me. I lowered my trembling hand down nearing the entity. As my hand approached, the thing before me began to swirl and when my hand finally touched the gelid mass, the fleshy maelstrom coiled around my wrist, and I felt pain. I recoiled to the floor in agony, my whole arm pulsated with burning pain. I stared in horror as my arm blistered with yellow puss and my skin crawled with demented eyes and dark fleshy spines. I couldn’t bear it anymore and I cast that evil book into the dark recess of the attic. The pain subsided, and the cruel horrors were gone. I rose from the sweat stained floor boards and scanned my grandfather’s attic which now had a distinct lack of any evil melodies. With quaking hands, I felt for the attic door latch and retreated from the chilling place.
As I recall after that hysteric episode, I staggered outside onto the cobblestone, a large puddle soaked the leg of my slacks, I looked around but I could only see things within my immediate vicinity for the sky had turned a deep dark blue and the gibbous moon glinted off of the scattered pools of water that littered the road. I turned up my collar and hurried homewards trying my best to avoid the docks. As I made my way back to my apartment, I did notice something unusual about Plymouth that estranged night for in every window the blinds were shut or the curtains pulled to, limiting my vision inside to mere shadow puppets. The streets were lifeless and I could hear nary a murmur or a cackle from an astray gull. Only occasional drips of rain falling from the gutters and the babbling of the sewer below dared disturb the noiseless night. Finally, I reached my apartment block, however, I could not shake the feeling that I was being drawn back towards something, could it be, the book, that wretched tome. I refused temptation and pulled away making my way up the gravel path that led up to my home. As I ascended up the building’s creaking, carpet-less stairs I began to feel a small twinge in my right arm, at first notice I assumed that it was merely the ache of a muscle or a bruise from my trip in the attic earlier, however, my assumption could not be further from the most terrifying of truths as that seemingly benign sting rapidly overwhelmed me with an agonising, burning sensation. My arm! My arm! When I clutched the throbbing arm, I did not feel the course hairy skin that I am familiar with but instead I felt a sopping, slithering thing that sucked and oozed with a sallow discharge. I dared not look, I could not bring myself to face whatever twisted parody had assimilated my right arm. For should I even glance down at that abhorrent thing that secreted a putrid froth then that horrific nightmare would instantaneously become a chilling reality. And so, I sprinted up the stairs with cold sweat surging from every pore until I reached my door.
Trying to avoid catching even a glimpse at that slimy thing I awkwardly pulled out my keys from my right pocket, drove the brass key into the lock and stumbled into my abode slamming the door behind me. I shambled my way down the tenebrous length of hallway, my breathing staggered immensely as my chest heaved and bulged. I had to look, I disdained not knowing. I drew a deep, heavy breath and with scared trepidation I looked down. And what wretched thing creeped on my body! A foul heliotrope mess squirmed across the length of my sternum which seethed with odious pustules. A myriad of temporary eyes formed and un-formed as chitinous protrusions burst from the membranous epidermis which scabbed and peeled. But my arm, if there was even any trace of me left, what had become of it. My eyes veered in horror back over to my arm which emitted a rancid stench which burned my nostrils. The same keratin tendrils surfaced, and alien movements crawled beneath the skin which grew with each throb until it hit the floor like a soaking wet burlap sack. I saw a movement in my peripheral. My head spun and I saw my cat which hissed at the sight of me, its hairs standing on end and claws extended. I tried to call her name but no words left my throat, instead a thick sticky gunge foamed from my mouth which steamed on the Persian red beneath my feet. Then I felt it, the temptation, the call of the tome. It must know the answers. I must have the truth before I turn in some malevolent eldritch thing. And so, I fled the concrete apartment complex as my very form mutated before my own eyes.
Despite the horrific changes that my frame was undertaking at that moment I could take respite in the knowledge that for some peculiar reason the streets of Plymouth were void of human life. My mind shuddered at the thought of their reaction should they see me, a shambling wretch loping around these filthy streets. Barely maintaining my balance, and consciousness, I made my way back to my late grandfather’s dismal domicile. The seething mass had now spread to my stomach which bloated and gushed with a dirty fluid. I crawled up the decrepit flight of wooden steps and scrambled up the attic ladder. I dived into the abyss to which I had previously lobbed that dark opus, tearing apart antiquated treasures that had belonged to my grandfather until, I found it. The tome was mine! The knowledge. The answers. The cure! I flipped that threadbare cover, but the pages were blank, blank! This couldn’t be I thought, I had seen the maelstrom before in this book. Vexed, I flew into a rage tearing wooden boards to smithereens and shredding old paintings asunder. I knew I must maintain possession of that chronicle until I am gifted with insight necessary to end that scourge. My blood boiled and the swirling mass continued to consume me. My legs had become bent and twisted with long bloodied nails that penetrated the muscle beneath, spindly things crawled out from transient orifices that grew and faded. The horror. My mind couldn’t bare this sight and I quickly slipped out of my loose consciousness.
When I finally came to, a whirring noise disturbed me. Strangely I no longer felt a stinging pain nor any evil things swarming across my bones. At first, I assumed that I must’ve dreamt of the horror that I had suffered the night prior, however, as I awoke, I found myself in that forbidden attic cradling the tome which still offered only blank pages. A crash. I needed to know what generated such confounded noise, and so I felt for the hatch and found my way back down to the front door, the noise becoming increasingly irritating and loud as I drew nearer to the wooden portal. I stood beside the door for a moment for I heard muffled speech from outside. “Alright guys let’s make this quick – whatever you find - destroyed you hear me”. They came to kill me. But I’m still a person I thought, they can’t! they won’t! The sounds of footfall approached, about a dozen boots drew nearer and nearer as my heart convulsed. I couldn’t move, my mass felt heavy and I found myself frozen just a foot from the door. The doorknob! It was turning, the door ebbed open. The book. They’ve come to take my cure. I lurched forwards towards the intruder. Screaming. Blood. A corpse.
Before me lay the now mangled cadaver of a young man donned in construction attire, his colleagues dropped their whirring power tools and quivered in horror as their eyes absorbed the pulsating thing before them, I watched their confused faces take in the churning membranous mass, writhing tendrils, bloodied nails which expunged grey matter and the impermanent collage of palpitating orbs that spawned for seconds before disappearing into the scabbed and clotting flesh that seethed and swarmed with fiendish things. One of the workers dropped to his knees and screamed and another drew whatever tool he could grab and repeatedly drove it in and out of himself, puncturing his body until he keeled over and joined the maimed carcass before him. As for the rest, they fled screaming and shouting for police. Before long I heard a high-pitched whistle, which was followed by shouting. A short man sporting a blue swallow tailcoat and top hat emerged from behind a building, sprinting down the street closely followed by two of the workers. I slithered out into the street and in a futile attempt to surrender, I tried to beg for my life in order to give a morsel of evidence as to my humanity, however, what actually left the cavity that was once my mouth was an indecipherable language that echoed across Plymouth like the foghorn of a freight ship. The man in blue halted his advance and maintained his distance, I could now make out the metropolitan police badge that jostled slightly on his uniform. I knew now that that he intended to kill, and I could not fault him for I had evolved into an ineffable monster that could only be conceived in the nightmares of only the most deranged lunatic and even then my visage alone would cause that dreamer to awaken and immediately take their life. I had become evil incarnate. The officer, with a face white from dread, drew his revolver which glinted in the warm sunlight. There was a crack, and then black.
I know not what happened next for I’m certain that my mind had fled my deformed frame in that frenetic moment. However, I found myself in an asylum for the mentally depraved, in my delirium I told the doctors my recollection from those calamitous hours although it would appear that the attention given to my seemingly preposterous claims has been scarce. The doctor handed me the newspaper this morning which told me about the events that transpired that night, the actual retelling of the affair was something I gave scant attention. However, what instead caught my eye and instilled me with horror; was an entry which stated that the tome which had caused my hysteria had been taken to a museum where it would be accessible to the general public. I could not begin to fathom the possibilities of what pandemonium would ensue should the public read that wicked tome.
It is night now and my mind still toils over those wretched events. Could it have been a dream, could I have merely conceptualised everything. Regardless I still feel the trauma and my chest constricts with pain whenever I cough. In an attempt to forget these events which have wreaked havoc on my mind I have tried morphine, however, it would seem that I have fallen to the clutches of addiction simply becoming a hopeless slave to its ephemeral reward of amnesia. And so, it is here that I will document the events as I experienced them before I end it all.
