Monday 17 December 2012

"Henshaw's Descent" - Part 1


               "A scream rang out as he approached, followed by a metallic crash. Quickening his pace, he entered upon a bizarre scene: there were four beds in the room, two of them occupied by alarmed and bandaged patients; a nurse cowered in the far corner, her hand to her mouth, a metal tray and scattered pill-boxes around her feet. A doctor and the two policemen stood by the bed in which the Chinese man lay, restraining him while he jabbered with spittle-flecked intensity at the reverend. The priest stood with bowed head and solemnly crossed himself.

               But Henshaw’s gaze was drawn to the screaming man. The shock of his injury was written large upon his features: he was pale and clammy-looking, sheened with sweat; the ruin of his hand was screened by a red-seeping bandage, hastily-applied. His shirt had been undone revealing a lean, muscular torso of sallow flesh, marked strangely with curious black-ink blotches. However it was his face which drew Henshaw’s scrutiny: the man’s delirium-filled eyes bulged from their sockets, red-rimmed and whites yellowed, filled with a startling hatred. Cruel lines of savage fury creased his features as he spat rapid-fire invective from snarling lips and snapped with point-filed teeth at the hands that sought to restrain him. Most alarmingly though, was his tongue, flicking electrically like an eel amid the deadly spikes of his teeth, a pale translucent member of gelatinous texture that resembled no human organ as much as it did some limb of an obscure pelagean creature.

               'My God! What is that?' cried one of the constables..."


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