I threw my hat and coat on the floor as I entered my chambers. It was dark, with nothing but the obstructed light of the streetlamps outside the window to illuminate my room. Rain had permeated down to my deepest layer of clothing, leaving me to strip off every garment I had. I put on the only pair of pants available to me; an old, black, formal set of trousers.

Sitting on the edge of my bed, I watched the shadows of my chambers. My mind wandered back to days prior. My last, most vivid, dream… That creature… What did it wish to say to me? My thoughts continued as I stared deeper into the darkness of my room. My heartbeat quickened as I searched for form in the shadows. I had to know what it wanted… I had to see it once more…

In the shadows, there came movement. Shining yellow eyes opened as the darkness shuffled. Something thin and frail pulled itself from the wall as if it were stuck, long strands of overly stretched flesh still connected. Its shape was mostly humanoid, and its face was still largely connected to the wall. Skin was stretched to produce a horrifyingly wide smile from its gummy mouth. It had no features other than the glossy yellow eyes and toothless maw. What looked like its arms were pulled back into the wall, and its legs were barely able to shuffle its sickly grey body closer to me.

I wished to move, but I was adhered to my mattress, as was it to the wall. I could only lean back and turn my head as the smiling thing struggled closer. Skin continued to stretch thinner against its wiry figure. The smile continued to grow wider as it became close enough for me to feel the hot breath emanate from its maw. Flesh began to reach the point where it tore, revealing a moist, pink, underlayer. Bones cracked as it got so close that my vision was completely consumed by its visage. The snapping continued as its jaw slowly unhinged before me, revealing the squirming inside of its mouth, as if it were a thin sheet laid over wriggling larvae.

Its head bobbed as its body shuddered. A rasping sound reverberated through its hollow torso like some form of laughter. At the back of its throat, a light shone. A ball of otherworldly color was regurgitated with each bellow of the creature. The colors spoke in primordial tongues of hue and light to me, saying only. “One… Two… Three… Four… Five…”

The perfect sphere was halted at the creature’s gums, unable to pass through the grotesquely large opening. The light shown a different message as the hot, viscous, saliva of the creature dripped down onto my face. “You… Are… Special…” The being struggled closer, but it had run out of excess skin. The orb continued. “Do… Not… Hide… From… Yourself…”

Not only was I stuck, but I was paralyzed with fear. The creature continued with its guttural chuckling as it slowly began to lean back towards the wall. The skin lapsed into folds as the torn stripe in the center bled an oozing pink mucus. The creature continued to stumble backwards; its shining yellow eyes still locked with mine. Eventually, it receded back into its skin. Back into my wall. Back to the shadows where it belonged. But not before the orb shone one final remark. “I… Am… Inside…”

Once my arms and legs felt as though they were able to move once more, I furiously wiped the sweat off my face, unable to find the boiling saliva I so vividly felt mere moment ago. I laid back on my mattress, staring at the ceiling.

I did not know how long my seemingly brief interaction with that thing, nor how long I stared at my ceiling, but within time light began to peek through my curtains. The sun had begun to rise.

Taking to my feet, I paced around the room. I thought on the creature’s face. Its words. I had hoped for answers, yet I found nothing but more confusion. I continued to pace and contemplate for what felt like, or perhaps was, hours.

What eventually interrupted me was an unexpected knock on my door, which brought me to realize I was still wearing nothing but a pair of black trousers. Quickly adorning my still slightly wet clothing from the night before, I opened my door.

To my surprise, it was the woman I had briefly seen before my appointment with Dr. Prescott. She spoke politely. “Hello. Theodore Chatwood, correct? Hopefully, I have not bothered you.”

I looked back into my room, and saw the wet, messy state of it, and the single clean circle where I had trot for however many hours on end. “No… No, not at all. Why are you here?”

She continued. “I am from St. Dymphna’s mental hospital, but you might have already known that. I was sent on Dr. Prescott’s behalf to offer you an impromptu-counseling.”

“I… What? Why?” Not that it was not an entirely convenient proposition, and that I was glad to have it offered to me. But the timing of this spontaneous meeting was all too convenient.

“Well, I have the feeling it is less for counseling and more for some sort of announcement.” She said. “He has invited all of his patients… At the same time.”

Confused, I simply nodded and stepped out of my chambers. Locking the door, we continued down the short walk to the hospital. The streets were busy but not overly crowded, and the rain had luckily subsided, leaving nothing but light grey clouds looming above the city. After a bit of time, I had become curious over the woman next to me. “I believe I remember you. Ms. Moore, he called you? A patient of Dr. Prescott’s? Yet you also work for him?”

She smiled as we continued. “The answer to all of those many questions is correct. Emilia Moore is my full name.”

It made a small bit of sense for Emilia to both be a patient and worker simultaneously. The hospital needed caretakers, due to how many quit after certain periods of exposure to the patients. As well as that, Dr. Prescott was not cheap. “It is nice to meet you, Ms. Moore.”

“Oh, please. You can address me as Emilia. Is it alright if I speak to you by your first name as well?” I nodded, which brought her to take a different topic. “Speaking of last names… I have been undertaking the care of a woman who is also named Chatwood, I do not suppose you have any relation?”

As far as my knowledge went, there was only one Chatwood institutionalized there. Was she not only a patient of my psychiatrist’s, but mother’s new caretaker as well? In any case, after mother and I’s last visit, I was not enthusiastic to answer that question. “Um…” My mind searched for some topic to segue into, or some way to avoid such conversation, but my consciousness was empty. Instead, we simply fell into a long and awkward silence, one that lasted until we reached the hospital itself. Emilia looked confused for a second, then caught on that I was purposely avoiding the question, in which case she also let the awkward silence permeate.

We came to the door and entered. The nurse who usually checked us in was absent, leaving only an open door to the waiting room. The door to Dr. Prescott’s office was open as well, with a strong heat and the crackle of burning timber resonating from within.

In the office were many chairs brought in from the waiting room, each of which sitting a different individual. My friend Herbert Bradley sat in one, an empty seat next to him waiting for me. Alfred Hughes sat in the corner next to the roaring fireplace, concealing his identity in a large overcoat and hat. The man Bradley had described to me, Finnigan Price, our new supervisor, was sitting close to the desk. He was a muscular and gruff man, somewhere about his forties, with short red hair and a bushy mustache. Behind the desk was Dr. Prescott himself with a focused look, waiting for Emilia and me to sit. We took our respective seats, Emilia closing the door behind us. Dr. Prescott then spoke with a stern gaze to all of us. “Some of you already know this, many of you do not.” He then looked to Hughes. “Some of you have even vocalized worries on such matters, and it is with great displeasure that I confirm these theories.” Hughes grimaced as everyone looked curiously, except for Price. I had a horrible feeling growing in my gut, but I tried to ignore the inevitability of what the doctor was about to say. No matter how much I tried to ignore it, though, he continued. “For complicated afflictions such as all of yours, only the highest quality of treatments are suitable… Unfortunately, the herb we derive the medication from is of very low abundance, and only grows in remote parts of eastern India.” Now everyone was grimacing, waiting for the next sentence. “The andha flower is going extinct, and shipments are becoming less and less frequent.”

Everyone shifted in their seats uncomfortably. Bradley spoke out in disbelief. “You’re lying.”

Price spoke back to him, bringing poor Bradley past his rejection. “He’s not...”

Dr. Prescott nodded. “It gets worse… You are all aware of the sunken ship in the river Thames, I am sure… We only receive shipments once every two months… That ship has the next two sunken with it…”

We all depressed into our seats as Hughes pulled at his hair. He rocked back and forth anxiously. “No. No. No. Nonononono…” He whispered to himself.

The doctor held his hand to Hughes. “Do not panic yet! There is still hope!” He gestured to Price. “Luckily, we have someone with the tools to get into that ship. I have already spoken with Finnigan about this, and he has already approached some of you with offers to work for him. I would like to contract not just Price, nor Bradley, nor Theodore, but all of you to retrieve those flowers.”

Emilia questioned. “Then what am I to do. And him?” She pointed to Hughes.

Dr Prescott responded. “You are all very talented individuals in your own ways, that I know for sure. This work is far from legal, and with how many other scalpers there are looking for ways to get into the ship, the operation will need a keen listener like Emilia to make sure you are not followed.” He then turned to Hughes. “And a man with your outreach is always useful, are they not?” Emilia nodded as Hughes calmed slightly. Dr. Prescott continued. “We are doing everything we can here. And although we cannot offer you money, if you all succeed in retrieving that medicine the next two months of treatment will be completely free of charge.” Everyone, except Hughes, went from concern to shock. With such less expense, a world of opportunity would open before me, and I assumed almost everyone else. “Until then, though…” Dr. Prescott looked at his desk, frowning.

“There will not be enough medication for all of you…”