Chapter One
I haven't the faintest idea how I ended up getting into this position, but I am forever grateful that I managed to escape it. Ever since I was a child, I was an avid reader. I read just about anything: newspapers; comic books; obituaries, you name it. I'm certain that you had the same feelings I had. Of reading whatever you could get your grubby hands-on, you find yourself in a bind.
Craving more knowledge, I am assured that you would've done anything to satiate your hunger. As you can imagine, my love for reading was my greatest asset. I was consistently at the top of my class from elementary, to high school, to attend a four-year university. I received lavish praise from all my superiors and received prestigious awards for my years dedicated to learning. Eventually, I settled down and obtained a position at a library in my own hometown where I would often find myself distributing the rarest books and keeping them in perfect mint condition.
Many of the books were from far lands written in languages unpronounceable to my native tongue. They had bizarre writings accompanying descriptions of gods of old and where they once trekked. It took time, but I had completely read every book that was temporarily loaned and I wanted more. To explain it in a way you would understand, books were my addiction; if for instance I was reading a series of books, after I would finish one, I would more than love reading the next volume in the series.
I could not wean this feeling of urgency: I had a hunger that I had to have my fix. Books; newspapers; pamphlets, it did not matter. I had to further indulge in my love of reading, but how? I had just about read everything in the library and I was somewhat indifferent towards reading anything from any of the stores in my town.
I thought about it more, and for a reason I do not understand, my mind drifted to a neighboring town. I allowed myself to think about it more. Yes; another town. They did have a few more bookstores there perhaps some that I did not know about. So, without much ado, I explained to my employer my plans of taking a leave for the weekend, and while he was confused by my announcement -- even taking it to mean that I was intending on leaving for another source of employment and this was my parting words -- he accepted it and pulled another employee to the side to explain the change in the schedule. I couldn't hear what they were saying but from my co-worker's eyeing me, I could tell that he was displeased with having to work on that weekend. I pitied him a bit, but I was pleased with myself and I started to plan for the weekend.
I arrived to the neighboring town on Saturday and went to the nearest bookstore available and I immediately began my pursuit. I went to a section of the bookstore and mindlessly scooped some up and read them. But they were not getting much of an impression from me. The more I skimmed through the pages and read their contents, they were not inciting some provoking within me. What was I to do? I had read about four books already and I was not getting my fix. I needed something more. Something maybe challenging?
When I was allowing my mind to humor the imagined solutions to my plight, it happened. While I was browsing the town's bookstore, I bumped into a strange man. He was the spitting image of a walrus. He was a rotund man in the perfect shape of an egg. He had a double chin that was partially covered by the thick, wintry whiskers of his mustache. Whoever this man was, he clearly was of some form of nobility. He was dressed in the finest black tuxedo that money could buy...if not for the fact that his paunch peeked through the bottom of his shirt. His arms were of a gargantuan frame with rolls of fat jiggling from the slightest movement.
"Oh, I'm sorry, sir," I said. I had about four books in my hands at the time. I gazed down at them and collapsed on my knees to collect them without hesitation. The man tentatively wiped his shirt off with his pudgy fingers.
"It's quite all right, my good fellow," he said in an understanding tone of voice. While I should've been relieved that he wasn't going to take vengeance on me for my mistake, I felt the heat of his stare. He observed the books on the ground with a passing curiosity. "A fellow book connoisseur?"
"Well, yes," I answered while still being intimidated by the sudden interrogation.
"That is very good news," he replied. His smile shifted down into a frown. "But these books just won't do."
My interest peaked. "You know more appropriate literature for me to indulge myself in?"
"Yes. Just between you and me, let's just say that I have a collection of forbidden literature."
That proved to be the most intriguing part of the discussion. This man I had met on accident had access to literature that was assuredly banned by the government. I've heard stories of such books containing such unorthodox material, they were buried away, never to be seen by the light of day. The opportunities were limitless. I could barely conceal my excitement as I almost glossed over the gentleman providing me with his address. He became like a penguin and wobbled away, throwing his weight on his legs. Before I walked over to the counter, for a moment, I could've sworn that I saw a large, monstrous anomaly acting as the man's shadow.
Chapter Two
Not too long after my realization that I neglected to ask the man of his name; a series of disappearances befell the city. Children between the ages of 10 and 16 were reported missing. They each disappeared not too long after the other. Approximately, there were six missing children.
The most recent child to go missing was a small 10-year-old who was kept awake at night and whined to her parents about how there was a large monster that would gaze out at her from the darkest corners of her room. Then there came a time when her parents awoke from a shrill cry of horror and dashed towards her bedroom. To their shock, they saw that their beloved daughter had disappeared. There was a sign of struggling as her bed sheets were in a disarray and pitched aside on the cold floor. Their attention slid over to an open window, the curtains flowing in the wind.
I thought back to the man I met at the bookstore and how eerily his shadow matched the news reports of the children complaining about being relentlessly pursued by a monster shrouded in darkness. It sent a chill up my spine whenever I weighed more on it. Suspicions to the old man's guilt filled my subconscious mind and given how sudden of a chance encounter he had with him, would that mean that perhaps? No, that is too absurd of an accusation. Mad even! I was certain that these suspicions were baseless and that my good fellow was ignorant of the missing children reports.
The day of my little get-together with the man from the bookstore arrived. I fidgeted through my important papers until I fished out the note with his address on it. His home was a decent walking pace from mine. With my briefcase in hand, I traveled down the path. When I reached the house, it did not resemble anything I have imagined for a man of such a high status. The outer layers of the house contorted and shifted. The outer layer was transforming into indescribable shapes unknown to man. The trees around the settlement transformed into scaly talons. I turned to leave, but the voice of the fat man was calling out to me over the onslaught of chaos.
I walked through the shifting front door and trudged down the hallway. The walls were now a fleshy mass of red meat. They shook violently so much so; I was afraid they would leap at me. The other sights wereā¦unappealing. In one room, what I could only describe as the most horrid of debaucheries was transpiring before my eyes. A wave of men and women bereft of clothing were committing the most audacious of sins. They danced around in a perverted succession and clawed onto each other in large orgies. Their incessant moaning disturbed me. "Lust," I thought. It was undoubtedly a section dedicated entirely to the deadly sin of lust.
The next room was worse. Inside, chains of people were wrought with hunger. They tore into each other as wild dogs looking for scraps. Limbs were ripped off and fingers were plucked one by one like feathers. Not once did they grant me a passing glance. Instead, they continued to indulge in their cannibalistic rituals, never once feeling their hunger subsiding. What I have experienced was the sin of gluttony in its most perverted form.
Sloth was next. It was another guest room. It was relatively easier on the eyes, but that would be comparing a severed arm to a paper cut. Fat blobs sat on the bed and floor without rhyme or interest in anything currently happening. They were of people who were so corrupted by their slothfulness, they were reduced to creatures even below the worms.
I trudged down the long, winding halls further becoming unhinged about everything I had seen. My eyes caught sight of different tapestries each documenting acts of debaucheries that I, in my right mind, could not disclose. I was becoming overcome with a plethora of different feelings. Everything I had seen, each dedicated entirely to one of the most perverse of human decency, was wearing away at my senses. I heard the incessant moans of the house's guests now a mixture of pained ecstasy. In their madness-induced fervor, there came an arise within them alerting that something was horribly wrong but whatever force that was compelling them into committing their atrocities weighed them down.
The further I glanced into the rooms, the more I felt my mind crack from my incapability of understanding it. A hand reached out and touched my shoulder, sending me over the edge. "Glad you could make it; the festivities had just begun."
It was the fat man again. But something was horribly wrong. He did not have any noticeable change in his demeanor. He still was just as jolly as he was when I first met him. In fact, he treated the unholy nightmares festering in his home with seeming indifference. That kind of indifference a man may feel when he views the same events daily. I now felt uncomfortable being in the same room as him.
Before I could respond, he whisked me away into the kitchen where he had a lavish array on the table. It looked normal at first glance, but after seeing all the bizarre, surreal nonsense in the respective rooms, I couldn't help but be suspicious. The obese man sat at the head of the table and glutted himself on fattening foods from turkey legs and mashed potatoes. Thinking back, he looked even more massive than I gave him credit for. He looked up from his many plates and eyed me inquisitively.
Chapter Three
"So, how are you enjoying your stay?"
I slammed my fists on the table in a dazed frenzy. "What in the name of all decency is going on here!?"
He frowned and sighed deeply. "I see you don't understand. Such a shame."
"Shame?" I asked.
"Yes," he answered, "I'm sure that you noticed by now that I am by no means an ordinary man."
My mind became a blank. Not human? What is he suggesting? I knew he was insane, but what the hell did he mean by those cryptic words? I hushed my thoughts when he began to speak again.
"I am of a race of gods eldritch to your thought processes. Please, call me the Defiler."
"Where are you going with this?" I asked now in irritation. Great; this man was insane, and he also believes that he was some powerful deity. I rubbed my throbbing temples in bewilderment. If this were a dream, I very much would've loved to wake up. I'd imagine waking up in my bed in the early morning going about my day and then indulging in my cherished hobbies. Instead, I was currently in a grotesque house filled with unspeakable perversions getting lectured to by a deranged man who may as well have escaped from a mental asylum not too far from here.
"I see that I am boring you, boy," he said. His face was contorted into a vengeful scowl. "I am here speaking to you, but I am also far away."
"How far, fat man?" I asked.
"My body is indescribable to you mortals, but I am confined behind a stone wall."
I listened tentatively despite my disbelief. What he said next horrified me. If the idea that he was locked away behind a stonewall was already unbelievable, what he spoke of still to this day greatly disturbed me.
"Do you like my latest body?" he asked, "after all, this freak was just like you before I found you." He told me that there was a man who was much like me who hungered for knowledge. After he grew bored with the typical literature he read, he sought more. In his endeavor, he met a member of an underground cult who told him that he could have access to the more problematic pieces. He was exposed to the depravities that the cult performed in dedication to some Great Old One or something of the sort. Despite it, he nevertheless allowed his cravings to overpower him, and he read a book that summoned that unearthly presence to him.
"It's a pity that this body is going to waste," the fat man bemoaned. "It's about time I parted with him; we had so much fun together." He feigned a single tear. "Those children were my favorite part."
"Children?" I said.
He wordlessly took me forcefully out of my seat, and we both walked to the basement of the house. The remains of the missing children were spread astray. I choked back vomit as I took a closer look at them. Large chunks were noticeably taken from the corpses. I looked back at the fat man, his grin only growing larger with a more deranged glaze in his eyes. His smile circled around the tips of his mouth.
"What? What can I say; after I had my fun with them, I got hungry. Can't blame a Great Old One becoming famished."
My fists clenched. After everything, I was mentally preparing myself to punch this "god" back towards whatever plane of existence he originated from. "What else did you do to that man?"
He smirked. "When I possessed him, I cast his soul aside. He will forever be trekking that long path between life and death. I maneuvered him like a flesh puppet subservient to my rule. I do wonder though if he ever was made to watch his body cozy up with strangers?"
"What are you wanting from me now? And what is the reason behind any of this!?" I finally yelled.
He shrugged his shoulders. "After about three hours or so in my home and you still fail to understand?" He sighed. "I live for the carnality of you simple humans. I know all of man's depravities and abominations, and I bask in it. That sense of pleasure mixed with pain is intoxicating. But what I desire the most is to be free from my prison and walk among you simple humans!"
The man's disguise was wearing thin. His skin became papery with small cracks forming all over. Like a butterfly emerging from its cocoon, his disguise cracked open. Underneath was displeasing to man's eyes. An abnormally fat, headless man burst through the skin and towered over me. His hands were large and enshrouded my head. What sent me the most alarm, however, were the two mouths within the palms of his hands. Hot drool dripped down from his serpentine tongues. The room transformed into a chasm of red meat with oozing slime. A book manifested before me. It opened to the section that mentioned the fat man, the Defiler's, name.
"Say my name and free me!"
My eyes darted towards his name. I tried my darndest to fight, but once my mind was set on the name, my tongue began to betray me. "Yā¦Yā¦"
The Defiler stiffened up in anticipation. "Yes! Yes!"
I grasped my throat and grunted. My attempts at choking myself were also proving to be unfruitful. "Y'golā¦"
I immediately stared down on the floor of the basement. Beside one of the bodies of the slain children, I saw a carving knife. With my little time, I made a grab for it. The Defiler was perplexed, though because of lacking eyes, he could only express it through his mouths. I grabbed the knife and held it in front of him. My tongue slid out unconsciously from my mouth, and I grabbed it with one hand.
"No, no!" he screamed.
It was painful, but I sliced my tongue off, allowing half to fall on the floor. The Defiler shook violently. I was running out of blood quickly, but I ran forward with the knife and tussled with the Great Old One. He pinned me tightly with one of his hands and he tried to shove me up his other mouth. I clenched my knife and I rammed it into his chest cavity. He loosened his hold on me and tumbled forward. Blood was leaking out onto the floor. Nevertheless, he laughed. Despite the pain and blatant loss of blood. He was still laughing as if he was having the best day of his life.
"Don't think that this is over, fool," he said, "I can never truly die. Shame we won't be able to play some more, though. Oh well, I guess I'll go defile some other poor sap." He laughed through his hands and contorted into dust. Without its owner, the house began to collapse, and debris came raining down. From the sound of the bloody screaming, the Defiler's followers were also being buried alive. I staggered my way through the horrific freak show and exited the house. The house imploded, burying itself deep into a crater in the ground.
Epilogue
Even though it was a few months ago, I still find myself thinking back about how my lust for reading nearly cost me my life and the threats of that beast getting released. But he also said that he would try to corrupt some other hapless victim. I just wonder who will be the next to fall, victim? As for my addiction...it died over time. After a few days have passed since my chance encounter, I have realized how grievous my addiction to reading had become. Because of my moment of weakness, I nearly allowed that horrid creature dominion into our world. After everything that I have seen, from all of the rooms to the slain children, I often found myself unable to sleep a wink. I took a leave off work so I could meet with a therapist to help cope with my addiction and the results thus far are benefitting me. At any time, I could hear of another poor man taking up that offer I had received.