MICAH PEARSON’S ANALOG NIGHTMARES:

It has been a long time coming… It has hidden there, in the dark of our own blood, for millennia. Once, it was rare for it to stir, to boil. But every time it did… Oh God.

A horror anthology/art book that presents a suite of monsters from the mind of Micah, each accompanied by a short story from a different author.

Every time it did; the horrors visited – the death tolls – bordered on the incalculable.. Now though, something has changed. It’s happening much more frequently now. The tainted strain is spreading faster. Infecting with greater potency. The mutations it causes to the body are -at times- becoming more subtle, but the mutations of the mind…

 

Those have become something else entirely. Recently I became aware of a case in London, the Whitechapel area. Tales of it shook me to the core. The violence of it. The sheer joy and revel in it all. It was clearly the strain at work, yes. But what was most frightening was that no one could see the monster prowling amongst them. Typhon’s blood, you see, makes monsters of all men, though to varying degrees. Not all sprout fangs and fur. Not all have horns and claws. But they all know evil as their lover and bride in the end.

 

I am weary, my dearest Agatha. So tired. I have traveled so far and seen so much, but still I fear. I fear… I fear I know so little.

 

I find myself sleeping less and less. For all that I have learned, and all that I have gazed upon, I fear it is having an effect upon the mind, you see. Where I once had such lovely dreams of a bright future for all mankind, I now know only terrors.  Sometimes, when I climb into bed in the dark, I imagine I hear whispers. They say such terrible things to me. They remind me of my skills as a doctor and how they may be put to better use. The ease with which one like myself could use a syringe to inflict such pain and loss. The dreams that came with slumber, the visions I experienced… I shall save you their description.

Save to say that I find that they stay with me longer into the next day with each passing fortnight.

 

But here is the thing, my love. I no longer put off the void of slumber because I fear these whispers and visions. It is something much more terrible than that, I am afraid. I fear the grip of Morpheus solely because I’m finding that I’m beginning to look forward to them.

 

Faithfully,

Doctor Thomas Cream, M.D.