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The Newborn

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Jan 4, 2017 | 6:27 PM EST
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horror
demon
creature
lovecraft

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I was tracing down a group of heinous killers, responsible for atrocities too vulgar to describe. I suspected some of the town's top socialites and when i got close to exposing them, they used their influence to ridicule me as a police detective. I became a pariah to our town's community but, it mattered not to me. I continued my investication unhinged, in private and without the boundaries of a law enforcement agent.
I deduced that, tonight, the group would hold a meeting in a certain luxurious manor at the outskirts of our damned town. It was at this short hour of the night that i jumped the manor's iron fence, crawled through the flowery garden and broke into the house. I made sure to move with as much subtlety as i could. I couldn't risk being found now, not after all these months of investigation. All lights were out and it would appear as if the residents had been sleeping, if not for the mysterious carriages that arrived one after the other a few hours earlier. As i wandered through the expensive decorations, i heard a spine-chilling sound that came from the manor's dungeon.I drew closer and realised it was some short of religious chant. I slowly opened the heavy door to the staircase. The wood squeeked and i realised my palms were wet with cold sweat. The chant went on in a peculiar language that sounded eastern but wasn't quite like anything i've ever heard. I drew my pistol and descended. I reached the dungeon's hallway, a damp place filled with ugly paintings in frameless canvases and dusty books. Before me stood another door, black and ominous. Whoever chanted this disgusting sermon, was doing so behind this door. I slowly approached, despite my insticts, and kneeled to peek through the keyhole. It was one of those old relic doors and the keyhole was large enough to take a good look inside. They called themselves monks, although, they were anything but pious. Freimann, Kreicher, Austin, Farwood... Under the hood's shade, the town's socialites hid their faces, only to expose their true identity, that of zealous connoisseurs of pleasure and terror.
Obsessed with anything that offered unholy knowledge, the cultists practiced until curiosity led to mastery and now, they stood before the epitome of their studies, the fruit of their labors. The...thing, writhed in slow, almost hypnotic spasms. It's flesh swirled and twisted, one moment if seemed strong and muscular, the other it appeared to be as if it was entirely liquid. Perhaps yet more disturbing was the fact that the creature was covered in blood and amniotic fluids, like a newborn. It was a mockery of the human physique, a sacrilegeous thing. It's tentacles, horrible apendages that could also be intestines, were swaying slowly, like seaweed caught in the subtle pulses of the current. I felt a sickness racing through my body and an irresistible urge to vomit. A terrible whistling sound pierced through my ears. The cultists kept on chanting as the creature turned and faced the door. Where a man's head would be, lied tangled flesh, the kind you expect to see when you gut a swine open. And yet, somehow, i knew it was looking straight through the door and into my soul.Then, I noticed the terrible faces that grew in the thing's wrists.The left one smiled at me, exposing rotten and overgrown teeth. All of a sudden, something connected to the back of my skull. Something heavy and cold. Darkness swallowed my senses. As i fell, the chanting continued.