A thing of grim

Even in the profuse expositions, of reccuring ruminations, I could not settle my pen, on the manifold aspects, which informed that grotesque specimen, that thing of grim, which in habitual circumstance, visited my precinct at the exact hour of midnight. The percussive accents of time, by that rust of the old clock, never betrayed my studied designation, for when I lay incumbent upon my bed wrestling to find slumber, I saw it trespassing with eerie deliberation the compartments of my chamber. I was quiet and in that acute vigil, which is the natural propensity of marrow drying terror, I derived some rudiment of semblance in the moonlit shroud of night. Ah yes, the designs of the grotesque, are not in all pervasive abundance, found within the structure of the subject, but rather in the distortion of the intuition which gratifies reason; and so I cannot say what, in the constitution of this fiend, delighted my ethereal pursuits of nightmarish wonder. I challenged the very surmise of my impulse, from hasty delivery, and from this gloriously hideous practice, I learnt of the corruption within the image of my visitor. It was humanoid, only in the performance of deliberate saunter, but when it crawled through the window, I fancied a strange elasticity in its limbs, such as that of an arachnoid. The pleasant distortion of things is not, within the culture of its exactness, and the reader knows best, how mighty the revelry of undue diagnosis is, when the mind is presented with that object of wandering obscurity. I shudder, but I shall continue. Its visage was cold with malice, and emaciated to an almost artistic articulation of the macabre, with its sunken temples, veinous forehead, grey eyes and pallid complexion. The fiend was of a grandiose altitude, with an adament emaciation arresting its anatomy. The supplements of my vigorous curriculum, were deficient, and yet, their perpetuate signature upon my imagination, had given might to my sentience, and each night superinduced that confounding prosperity of the phantasmagoric, and sinister. Perhaps what was most strange, was the instance of its trespass, when forsaken without any tangible purpose; a mere stride into my precinct and a receding agitation, as it slithered out the window. I began to fear that its purport would be met with decision, and I spoke of it with a trusted acquaintance Martin, who shared my distress upon the subject.

"Before we let fate take its course and permit its desultory tyranny you must kill the thing, and I shall join you" he said, with a fixed dread upon his pigment. The ensuing night found us vigilant, I was under the floorboards and my friend waited, under the bed. I had a shotgun to my possession, and the hour was wistful. Nothing was tangible thus far and so I ascended from the floorboards and called out to my friend Martin, and from under the bed slithered that hideous fiend. I put a darn bullet to its skull, and heard it groan, but oh good lord, what could save me from the terror, which gnawed at my bleeding heart, when in the image of the fiend, there suddenly lay the body of Martin.