Sunday, November 21, 2010

Call of the Letter People

It was in my fifth year when I made the most horrifying of discoveries, a time of which I can barely speak even in the full light of day. I was attending Moon Mountain Elementary when my studies were disrupted by a dark pall of dread that crept over me; twenty-six denizens of the Abyss had entered the classroom and would endeavor to devour the innocent minds of the student body, though I alone would hold out to the last and give my report of those terrifying events so that others might take heed and be forearmed, though little hope of victory might be had.

The teachers, slaves already to the foul beasts, would herd the unwary moppets into a room in the middle of the day, shortly after nap-time. We had encountered dark rumors of the ones called the ‘Letter People’, if 'people' indeed could take such hideous form and tainted manner of speech and action. The trusting children went willingly to their doom, each session breaking down their defenses against the next onslaught. I alone remained, unconvinced of the reassurances given by the wheedling professors, listening to the shouting, singing and possibly screaming of the entrapped minds rotting in their fetid juices just the other side of the door.

To my horror, I learned more from those mind-slaves as they drooled upon themselves, touting the praises of their new gods. Effigies there were that would be hoisted above their heads to lord over them, and they would sing their praises to the mangled forms, worshipping the twisted abominations as the corrupted adults goaded them on. They called out names that played at my sanity, threatening to tear it from its tender roots and hurl it over the brink; Mister M and his Mouth of Madness, Mister T and his Terrible Teeth, Mister H and his Horrible Hair, Miss I and her Infectious Itching. I steeled my resolve, bearing the jeers and torment of the converted, vowing never to enter that unholy place whilst I lived and breathed.

It is only now, writing from the safety of my padded cell, that I can recall these events without disturbing the calm illusions of the general public; without my nervous laughter and shaking limbs belying my differences. Take from it what you can and protect your children! They are after the children! Flee if you are able, even if it be to those godless foreign lands where the letters are strange and senseless. Better senselessness than the fate that awaits you!

Y, oh heaven, do you abandon us to the Yawning mouth of Mister Y?

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