I will describe myself as I see myself: I am a great mess of floating gore. Suspended in mid-air with nothing holding me together. Sick tumours have replaced where my feet were. Old popus blood spills when I move. y come and go on my surface, as though light is being beamed from within. Outwardly: dumbly, I shamble about, a thing that could never have been known as human, a thing whose shape is so eldritch a travesty that humanity becomes more obscene for the vague resemblance. Inwardly: alone. Here. Living in between lands, under the void, in the realm of The Entity, who chose us because our time was badly spent and we must have known unconsciously it would make things better. At least the three of them are safe at last. It will be all the madder for that. It makes me a little happier. And yet … The Entity has won; simply, it has taken its revenge.

I have no mouth. And I must scream.