I recalled, mayhap erroneously, distinct episodes of that dastardly incident in the Salem Woods. Four syncopated years passed, plagued by the restless phantasms of my dear sister, Madeline, and the inhuman spawns of that prehistoric Divine Being. In all probability, perhaps that damnable abomination interfered in my dreams as a form of indoctrination because of my knowledge.

In terse phrasing, I drowned in delusions, hardly coping in quotidian life. I knew in the aftermath that my resolute response decimated the grounds my sister acquired for that despicable summoning. Summarily, I incinerated, detonated, and then sealed the insidious gateway with copious loads of concrete. Finally, I cordoned the entire property and left the zone deserted.

Yet, I knew my past mental faculties thought in a much saner acuity. As it remained, I stayed demented by an unceasing relation of the child I raised to the hallucinations of my sacrificial practices.

I abhorred my visions and visited many men of faith to purify the relentless taint seeping into my soul. It still stood not even the most reputable clergymen or blessed artifact had any effect on my unbending psyche. Had it not been for my indomitable willpower, I feared myself to fall prey to the same descent my sister followed.

For these considerations, I secluded my appearance in public and only corresponded with my closest friends. Inevitably, I was left behind by my social circle and kept solely William Johnson, my most faithful comrade, in contact.

I wrote him letters that began to erratically increase in volume as time passed. His concern for my feverish outbursts and frightful passions concerned him so dearly that he eventually decided to visit. William, however, took an unbelievably long time to appear.

My domicile resided a distance from Boston since my paranoia imagined an extended network of tunnels underlaying the entirety of the city. I feared others may be influenced and stayed in small company I trusted. Nonsensical as it was, I nevertheless chose to build a modern home on a hill, far removed from the port and where the sounds of sea-faring vessels were muffled.

As it stood, today most definitely marked the anniversary of the enigmatic incident. My remaining staff— the butler, James Miller, and the maid, Helen Anderson— prepared for his arrival. I awaited in the drawing room at a profound mahogany table inherited from my mother's family. I stared unwaveringly at a forgotten ancestor's painting that hung over the fireplace. My family's fortune astounded me as much as my sister's disappeared astounded my parents.

My adopted boy, Roger Smith, took residence in my family home, with my mother, Elizabeth, and my father, Thomas. The bright child learned astutely and swiftly. His intellect frightened me to varying degrees of conflict in whether or not he was possessed by pristine madness as had I. I formed a cryptic bond between that boy and the past that haunted me.

Promptly, William arrived and was led in, attended by the youthful Helen. He bore a satchel at his waist and a walking cane in the hand. My mouth opened, but I found myself at a loss for words. Instead, he greeted me first.

"How goes it, John?" he said with mirth.

It did not disguise the compelling compassion in his clear eyes that gleamed like agate jewels.

"You may leave us, Helen," I decidedly commanded.

She curtsied and closed the door behind her. I regretted not asking for refreshments, yet the bowl of fruit on the table soothed my guilt.

"Would you like one, William?" I asked.

William took his hat and laid it over the bowl.

"What's eating you, John? You're not anywhere near the person you were five years ago," William clamored over. "You waned into a ghoulish figure! Look how thin and bony your limbs are! How shallow your cheeks have become? Tell me, what is it?"

The purity of his altruism struck a chord within me.

"I am beleaguered by my sister and the unspeakable. My mind cannot handle so much isolation. I feel my body failing, as if on the same pace for the changes occurring in my thinking. William. Is it normal to desire the death of an innocent child? Please, I beg of you, give me your advice!"

William sat beside me, stuck in his own mind. I desired release from my infernal confinement but had yet to discover an egress to my mental trauma.

"John. I will be frank. Something strange lurks around your mind. Believe the truth that makes you feel most human. I'm scared that if you do not relinquish these chains, you will keep the fetters in place created by the nightmares you always feared."

William produced a tincture of Eastern make. I cannot fathom the troubles he had gone to acquire this substance. I drank it all at a slight insistence.

Abruptly, a surging agony swept my mind. I could not scream as the scorching mixture maneuvered down my esophagus and made its way into my chest. An uncomfortable burgeoning swelled my stomach and I heaved its contents.

My ears were teary and I became blinded momentarily. I heaved once more and a wave blasted from my mouth. My tongue slicked on slime and a wriggling entity between my teeth provoked me to spit. Finally, the pain faded and I no longer had any discomforts in my stomach.

I heard William speaking distorted words and a wet cloth clean my face. In time, I recovered and opened my eyes. Atop the table, a writhing mass of fleshy buds and worms spread, amidst my bile.

"What madness is this!?" I cried.

William looked at me seriously and somewhat in praise. His clothes were in much more disarray and even dissolved at some points. He held a melted pistol that was indistinguishable.

"I didn't expect ipecac to have such effective abilities... John, can you try telling me what are these again?"

William grabbed his hat and moved it from the bowl. In place of fruits such as apples, oranges, pears, and peaches, there sat a slew of similar discordant creatures.

"My God... Have I been blind to this all along?"

William clasped my shoulder. It was coated in a fleshy coating, like I was a cocooning insect.

"You are one of the most stubborn bastards to last so long. If you hadn't warned me in your final moments of clarity, who knows if you would have survived?"

My mind envisioned the world as reality once more. I was John Smith, captive of the same occult influence as my sister. Albeit the ritual failed, my sister succeeded in purveying a proxy. I raised the child but my suspicions saved my life as I imprisoned it in an inescapable prison.

Its power prevented me from directly killing it, as I had been already infected. Yet, it could not kill me as I steadfastly resisted its control. Thus, I remained in a self-inflicted confinement, waiting for rescue. I had no real bearing on the passage of time.

"William! Make haste! What date is it today!" I cried.

William looked at me strangely and took a moment to respond.

"It is Friday, October 13th, 1922. Why?"

"Quick! What time is it?"

William looked at his watch.

"It is a minute before midnight."

"Dear God, have you no mercy!? William! Tear down the painting over the fireplace!"

William bounded over at my vexation, complying to my panic.

"Take that gun and fire at the glass jar!"

William fumbled with my trusty Smith and Wesson and aimed.

"Fire! Shoot it now! Before it is too late!"

Three shots rang out, deafening my ears once more. The metallic tings told me he failed.

"William! Shoot the fireplace! Alight it! We're doomed!"

I strained in my casing. It hardened over a long time. My usage as a carrier left me in stasis rather than transformation. The aberrations made from my host henceforth feasted and proliferated, using me as their origin.

Two more shots rang out and then William screamed. Pulpy thumps crashed him against the remains of the rotted door. More screams echoed as the tendrils sunk deeper and deeper into his organs. His wails harmed my wits more than any pain I felt before. A final shot rang out and William ended his own suffering.

I watched in horror as the parasite assimilated his motionless corpse as it bulged under the skin, slowly flaying and feasting on the insides. It ballooned and expanded like rubber. An odious stench entered my nose.

I was doomed.

What once was a baby I named Roger malformed into a bulbous flesh mass, exhibiting hyper-intelligence and speaking a language capable of inducing lunacy!

My mind spun in delirium. William fed this repulsive anathema. Its appendages sprung outwards and doubled in numbers. They sopped in inscrutable organic juices. I futilely prayed for William to have made preparations for containment with others.

Tendrils trailed down my throat likewise. I became it. It became me. My emaciated mass conjoined despite any scientific incompatibilities. An invasive consciousness almost smothered my thoughts completely.

As my mind dwindled on its last sense of individuality, Ub'rEth Nel, ro Breel Ho'nosh clas il Vrosh znib w'eal...