“YOU’D BETTER BURY ME DEEP, SO DEEP YOU CAN ACTUALLY SLEEP AT NIGHT! I AM GOING TO DIG MY WAY OUT OF HELL FOR ALL OF YOU!”
I tried as best as I could to leave a strike of indelible ink on the minds of these maladroit buffoons, but my life was clearly coming to an end. I was to be executed for heresy. I was a local doctor who was appalled by the advantage taken of my fellow countrymen. A rather intense colony of e.coli bacteria had taken root in castabury’s water supply. I voiced my opinions on how to handle this, the covering and quarantining of wells until a clean test could be taken, the boiling of water. Meanwhile the clergy argued for witchcraft, a chance to root out the challengers to the church. I was myself amongst the members of Anglia’s church. They saw my access to the water and what they described as spells and potions, they used corpses I’d been studying as proof of my crimes against God. I should have seen it coming really, but far more galling to me was the city’s administration and medical community.
They sold the souls of the citizens themselves, the medical community observes as children rot from the inside out and experiment and the city’s administration hides everything. I hate them all so much, the infection I was fighting wasn’t just in the blood of the people, it was in the mind of the people as well. They are being used to kill the man who wanted most badly to save them.
“It would seem that this is the end of I, Eldritch Gerald Hawthorne. May this prayer reach someone who cares as my own God has clearly abandoned me. Please look after Edna and Celia.”
His prayers and curses echoed out from the town square, through the empty moor and into the trees where it entreats the ears of The Fey.
“OoooooOOOooooh, this one is gone mad! Mad and mad! I love these deranged little beasts! As awful, awful, awful, awful as they are the love to kill kill kill kill themselves! Shall we act?” A deranged calliope of colours arranged vaguely in the shape of a woman if she were lying down horizontally and floating in the air. She spoke with something barely resembling a face with eyes and a mouth that fluctuate wildly in size and are not at all attached to said face, but if they were they’d be on the top of her head rather than where a face should be.
“No if it means yes. My silence has spoken. Nature allows not the raising of the dead. Let us instead make the living dead so the dead can become the living and carry out the will of the recently dead.”
Speaks another fey from a head that looks like a rhombicosidodecahedron spinning, floating and rapidly fluctuating in size above a similarly floating marble statue of only a man’s torso upside down and backwards such that if one were to confuse a Fey for anything human the buttocks would be where a neck should go would tip them off.
“OoooooOooooh, so wise! Wise, wise, wise! Humans leave these little hearts ready to kill them everywhere as they chop down the forests we live in, don’t they know we’ll stop existing without forests for them to wonder if we’re in?! Stupid, stupid, stupid!” Speaks the Horizontal Woman again.
“I like Frogs. Make it a Frog. Go. Gorf. God. God exists in all things. Jenny Greenteeth is made from God, Rawhead and Bloody Bones is made from God. Long Lankin is made from God. More spooks to spook. Humans want these spooks to exist so we exist them to scare and kill humans. Humans hate humans. Want us to save us from them to save us to save them.” Speaks a Fey that looks like a painting if it was made of deer antler and human sinew. It exists in only one dimension, being completely invisible from the back or sides. It can be entered like a cave and is inescapable. The screams of those trapped inside can only be heard when viewing it at an angle in which it is invisible.
“OoOOOOooooh, games! I like that humans like games! We have that in common! It makes me feel DIRTY DIRTY DIRTY! I want to play games because it makes me hate myself!” The Horizontal Woman speaks of in her manic tone.
The Fey spew insanity into the autumnal night sky until it lights a sickly pink and a presence makes itself known, a humble Anglian frog lies within a Marl pit. It is suddenly possessed of an unnatural hunger as teeth begin to be slowly pushed into it’s gums painfully, invasively and invisibly by a gust of air. It startles from it’s distracting pain as beakers, books, furniture and a drawn and quartered corpse are suddenly thrown in top of the frog by dirty and disheveled citizenry who fear them as cursed objects of maleficium. The Frog clamours to the corpse and finds the only thing that seems to ease the intense pain brought to it by it’s newly gained toothy bone structure, only by sinking these teeth into the corpse does it feel anything nearing relief. It feeds for days, gaining weight and identity. It is with a sudden realization that Eldritch realizes he is eating his own gangrenous corpse, yet finds no ability or even more damaging to his psyche, will to stop.
As the last pieces of bones fragments smashed apart by a rock in a hysteria slid down the throat of the being that once was a Frog and was now possessed of the mind of Eldritch Gerald Hawthorne it stood up on two legs awkwardly. It still appeared very much as a Frog, though around 130 centimetres tall and with a hunched back gate. It’s fingers while still webbed were near a man’s hand in articulation. He felt his face and began screaming as his throat bloated as any other frog. A chorus of alien voices echoed in his ears as the creatures beyond anything he could understand and stated a simple and horrifying fact to the new creature.
“WE HEARD YOU.”
