ihavebeenfloated

(Preface: I wrote this for my friend Greg. This is my take on Lovecraft, in a way.)

I know not why I am still alive to tell you this tale. At times, I wish I was not, for what I am about to disclose to you is inconceivable, not only to others, but to myself as well. Some try to tell me that my living is a blessing, so that I may carry on to tell others of my harrowing experience, but I do not believe them. I warn you further, and say, you are about to hear of something that no man should ever have to see first hand.

I’d never heard the stories before a few days ago. The locals speak of the Claw-Demons in hushed whispers, gathered amongst their friends in pubs, alcohol present and plentiful in their bellies. They say the Claw-Demons never come alone, they are accompanied by many other sorts of fiendish horrors. So terrible, in fact, that many of them escape the names applied by mere men. It is said that they come without warning, usually when you least expect it and you are at your most vulnerable. They steal your life from you and leave you on the verge of complete exhaustion. It is known that weaker men, perhaps the oldest few who have been taken by these creatures, have died shortly after their experiences.

It is foolish, especially for a wise man like myself, to put great stock in the ghost stories and tales of the ignorant, but I tell you now, these are no myths. These tales are the truth, and I have found my own proof, and I will tell it to you.

Earlier this evening I sat down to enjoy my diner; a sandwich of deep-fried squid. Calamari, it is called. I have always been drawn to varieties of cephalopods, either alive or dead. They are graceful creatures, very fragile, but also powerful and dangerous. The fact that man can capture them and turn even such a vile looking form into an edible meal will always be surprising to me. Perhaps it is a testament to the genius of man over beast, or to the foolishness of man always trying to conquer things that need not be conquered.

The meal went as expected. I ate, and was subsequently filled. A great many hours later, my stomach felt a bit queer and I rested. When I revived myself, I decided that perhaps I should eat more as to settle the beast that my stomach had become while I rested. A violent turning motion beset me, but still, I prepared my second meal for the evening. What I ate is of little importance, I feel, for I think what came after would have come no matter what precautionary measures I could have taken in advance.

When the time came for me to relieve myself of my gastrointestinal burdens, I went to my bathroom as any common man does. However, when I sat down with a collection of Lord Dunsany’s best work, what beset me, not even the Lord Dunsany himself could describe adequately with words.

A great many things came out of me, while I sat upon my porcelain bowl. I heard a great splashing noise, and as I peered between my legs, all I saw was shadow. I tried to raise a cheek to get a better angle, but the violence occurring inside my body was so great that I found myself unable to summon the energy to lift even a single muscle below my waist. Then the painful occurrence let up.

There was silence. I let out a sigh of relief, as I noticed that I had not been breathing through the entire ordeal. Then, I heard a sound. There was a great cackling, but unlike anything I had ever heard before. There was an inhuman quality to the voice that I heard, a hissing and buzzing sound, nearly mechanical in nature but infused with an indescribable organic influence. It laughed on, as I heard the water in the bowl below my posterior begin splashing.

I stood up, out of sheer fright, and looked at what was in the bowl below me. A great many things had come out of me that evening, and the shock of seeing all of them was so great that I blacked out for a brief period. When I came to, I was laying with my back on the floor, my pants still removed and around my ankles. Above me was a great swirling mass. There were creatures in the air above my head, they had wings that appeared weak and flimsy, but powerful enough to carry their diminutive forms. Their heads were small, with great bulging eyes that were solid black, as black as the moonless night, with holes right behind, which I could only assume were their ears. The mouths were lined with sharp, pointed teeth, arranged crookedly and caked with darkness and rot.

The swooped at me, shrieking in their voices, darting their great clawed feet at me. I scuttled my way across the floor, pulling a towel off of the rack. I spun it around until it was somewhat like a rope and I flung it at them, back and forth. I hit a couple and they fell into the bowl, a subsequent splash signaling my victory over a few of them. The rest continued, aiming for my face. A cut opened on one of my cheeks and I let out a shriek of my own.

This continued for a short time, before they seemed to grow tired of me. They hovered, together, out of my reach for a while, chattering in their strange voices. Then, just as quickly as they had come, they flew together in a formation and dived back into the bowl.

I climbed to my feet and affixed my pants back around my waist using my belt. I peered into the bowl, and not even the water was still present. When I went to clean myself, the toilet paper came back perfectly clean. I sat dazed for a while, and I will admit that there is a period where I do not remember exactly what I did to recollect myself on that evening, but I know now that the common people in the village are not telling stories, for I, myself, have been visited by the Claw-Demons bathed in brown.