In the oppressive black miasma, an orb reflected unrecognizable hues of otherworldly origin.

My hand raised by primordial instinct. Begging for mercy from the unearthed terror that lay dormant within the alien globe. Although I saw nothing but barely comprehensible colors and engulfing smoke, the energy resonated through my chest like the deep vibration of war drums.

The sphere glowed varying tones, formulating an answer to my plea.

Yet before I could make words from colors, the ebony clouds invaded my senses and blurred my vision.

The world around me turned black, then, from the nothingness, the material reemerged.

My thin mattress became present as I awoke. My eyes opened, showing the scene of my dimly lit apartment. The early morning light failed to seep through my curtains in anything more meaningful than the slightest amount of illumination, leaving a dreary and grey picture.

My vision slowly unveiled the spartan surroundings of my abode further as I hazily lifted my head from its feather-filled place of rest. The grandfather clock ticking with each swing of the pendulum. The oil lamp perched on my weathered oak nightstand.

But only as I surveyed the arbitrary lining of my apartment with full cognizance, I was able to see the thing.

An inhuman figure stood silhouetted from the sparse brightness escaping the crack in my door. The thing's shoulders hung forward from its concave torso, its head tilted in curiosity. A long and beckoning hand slowly began to arise from beside its body.

My heart skipped a beat. My mind instantly grew delirious clarity as my lungs clung in desperation to the oxygen within them, prohibiting me from inhaling.

My arms flung from my covers and hastily opened the drawer to my nightstand. One hand blindly searched for the packet of matches lost in a clutter of benign objects as the other felt its way up the cold metal lamp. Finally gaining purchase of the firestarters, I forwent opening the metal hatch of the lantern and focused entirely on igniting any of the few remaining matches in the pack.

My fingers shakily pulled the head of the wooden match across the textured wood of my nightstand, bringing the hissing flame to life.

I veered my attention back to the thin being, but as I lost focus of the fire, it collided with the hand in which I held the packet of matchsticks. The light that I kindled with such vigor extinguished as I impulsively released it from my fingers and sent it rolling in the depths below my bunk.

My heart beat to faster and faster rhythms as blood surged through my legs. The matches had become nothing but cumbersome and fruitless, causing me to drop them and pull the sheets off myself. My feet pounded against the cold wood as I kept my focus upon the looming figure in the corner of the room.

In a moment my hands clutched the thick black drapes in front of my windows and pulled them apart, flooding my room with the grey and foggy light of outside and revealing the grime-covered streetside beyond my apartment. Finally, the oppressive shadow subsided and showed the creature to be nothing but my coat and hat sloppily thrown atop the tall stand next to the door. Instead of a raising hand as I was previously convinced, it was just the breeze invading my room through the imperfections of my front door, causing the arm of my jacket to waver as though it was making a struggled movement upward.

My chest finally filled itself with new air as I stared contemplatively at the corner of my room.

Looking back to the window, I saw the odd person glance disapprovingly at my immodest state of dress. It had to be extremely early in the morning as the sun had barely broken through the smokestacks on the horizon, yet I cared not to return to my slumber.

Even with the judging looks of the infrequent pedestrians, I shamefully clothed myself on public display rather than being engulfed in darkness once more.

I looked to the old grandfather clock the previous residents of the apartment graciously left behind for my use. The pendulum swung four 'o clock.

My abdomen convulsed, bringing me to glance upon my emaciated body. I could not remember the last time I had eaten a fulfilling meal, and the bulging columns of my ribcage poking under skin showed that.

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The barren kitchen within my flat would be of no use, making my only option the butchery across the street.

With that thought, I retrieved my clothing from their place scattered across the floor. Old brown trousers. Lightly stained white shirt. Loose suspenders. One of my few pairs of clothing being reused again.

Apparel was expensive, and so was food. The year was eighteen-seventy-eight, and with the passing of each season the world became darker and full of more menace. As well as that, the price to live became higher and higher.

No matter. I had found a few coins left in my pocket that would suffice for a trifle of food.

With that in mind, I hastily unlatched my chamber door and released myself unto the cold February streets. Locking it, I turned and began crossing the shoddy cobblestone-laden road. Usually, the city fog would make it hard to see oncoming carriages, but at that time the air was crisp and lamplight shone brightly.

Once I had finally made my way to the glass-paned door, I took hold of the brass handle and turned, letting a waft of old meats and stale cheeses burst through the entryway.

The butcher recognized me as I entered at my usual hour. “Mornin’, Chatwood.”

I nodded in reciprocation. “Good morning, Payne.”

“The usual?”

“Yes.”

With nothing more said, Payne ducked into his cabinet of bargain meats, digging through assorted flesh.

Whilst he rummaged, my eyes wandered into the shady space behind his counter. The sun had yet to rise, leaving a single sick grey light shining through the window, so dim that it barely illuminated the end of the room. In the shadows, though, I witnessed a slaughtered pig, ribcage splayed open whilst it gently swung upside-down on a meat hook.

For some reason, I could not look away after I laid eyes on the creature, and with enough time spent glaring I found why the beast seemed so queer. The swinging was not due to the breeze. Its dead body spasmed weakly, creating movement. The more I stared in horror, the more frantic the convulsions became.

Back and forth, the swine tremored, until just beneath the surface of its cold flesh a separate movement began. Countless minute insects slowly crept from every pore on the hog. Eerily wriggling closer to the beast’s face. They all culminated near the eyes and peeled open the eyelids of the creature.

Soon those same eyes became a mass of writhing black. The pig wretched fits lashed against the metal chain harder. My stomach became grotesquely present as nausea took over. A shriek accumulated in the core of my sternum. I had to call out!

But my terror was abruptly disturbed as Payne stood once more from behind the counter, causing the insects to retreat into the boar. His eyebrow raised. “You’re pale. Are you all right, Theodore?”

Swallowing the screams inside, I weakly muttered. “Y-Yes. I am fine…” Although the cold sweat gleaming over my face showed otherwise.

Payne noticed my occasional glance to the pig and spoke. “Do you want some of the fresh-cut?”

“No!” I shouted with a complete lack of forethought. There was a long and awkward pause between us, all the while I tried futilely to regain my composure.

“You know what. Don’t pay today, Chatwood.” He said, combing his fingers through his salt and pepper beard with one hand whilst sitting a wooden board of meat and cheese on the counter with the other. His eyes wrinkled as concern took over his face. He was a large man, in equal parts due to fat and strength. His care still showed through his thick face, though, and I accepted his gift with gratitude.

“Thank you, Payne…” I said, grabbing the tray and smiling to the best of my ability.

Before I turned to sit, Payne gave a parting question. “Are you ok? When was your last appointment?”

I continued to sit, needing the rest. “A long while… But we have rescheduled. They are now on Saturdays, starting today.”

“Good, good.”

After that, I peered down at my sustenance. Moldy cheese and unnervingly moist meat. Prodding the flesh with the wooden fork provided with the meal produced pools of the meat’s juices, allowing further inspection…

Although the meat was a pinkish grey, the liquid was pitch black. Moving the fluid in the light revealed a colorful sheen as if it was an oil of some sort. These colors were completely alien. Each hue within the spectrum of light was a nigh incomprehensible one. Violet sheens of supernal light. Shades with which I was familiar…

These unimaginable colors were those I had glimpsed upon in my dream, yet the message they made was dull and indecipherable. The liquid evoked harrowing disgust throughout my abdomen, but I could not sit back nor rid myself of the food.

Through both the pressure of Payne watching me and my immense hunger, I simply closed my eyes and began eating. It was only a few minutes of agony before my stomach ceased letting me indulge on the flesh, instantly turning into a churning jumble of anguish.

I frantically sat down my utensils and weakly nodded to Payne, leaving the butchery with haste.

Immediately after the door closed, I hastened to the nearest alley and vomited all I had consumed, along with a copious amount of burning stomach acid.

The pool of vomit was nothing but oily black… Swirling ebony in a revolting mosaic of texture.

In my lightheadedness, I simply stared at the concoction of ichor bile… Eventually making out my reflection in the pitch black.

Looking upon myself, I thought. Remember. The mind is a fragile thing… Let it break and you end in the same state as mother… I have to find a way to make it stop.

I continued to gaze at myself, trying to comprehend my dire situation. I had not had my medicine in so long… It was a dark rabbit hole to investigate, but my mind nonetheless pondered… What were they attempting to say to me?

It was then that my pursed and grimacing lips widened in the reflection. First to a smirk, then to a full and toothy grin… Except… My mouth was not smiling…

I shook my head and stood straight, hyperventilating on the cold winter air.

I require my psychiatrist.