Excerpt from my current project.
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Under the cover of the moonlight there is cramped building at the end of a block of houses, inside lived Theodore Walker who sitting at his desk, working late into the night. From beneath the gaze of his oil lamp, he punched the final letters onto the piece of paper before him, the ink bleeding into the emptiness of the page, trickling down further and further. Theodore removed the ink-stained parchment from the machine and held it against the light, hoping the secrets that hid within the words would reveal themselves to him, like some nameless creature creeping towards the lone ember meandering in the void. He laid the page on top of the pile at the edge of his desk that let out a breath of dust as he dropped the stone paperweight on the stack of paper. Theodore blinked heavily, removed his round-framed glasses and began to clean them with his tie. He halted abruptly, hearing a noise in the street outside. The chair rasped as Theodore pushed himself up from the desk, swallowing the last drop of cloudy liquid from his glass as he crossed the room with his lamp in hand.
Upon opening the window a hideous stench filled the room and swam into his nostrils, making him double over and retch. It was like nothing he had ever smelled before, or ever wished to smell again. Now holding his balled tie to cover his breathing, Theodore rose to the window. There was abnormal fog hanging over the cobbled street below, which he deduced as the cause of the stench. It looked stale as it hung in the air he thought to himself. His attention was snatched towards the alley that sat almost parallel to his window, as a warm, flickering glow manifested against the wall. Blasphemous specter-like shadows danced on the brick. For a moment their movement looked rehearsed, swaying and bowing in unison. But then the light became brighter and continued to brighten as the figures motions became frantic. This chilled Theodore to his core as he forced himself to look away. He shut the window and closed the curtains, moving as erratically as those accursed specters that still danced around in his mind. Even after closing his eyes, Theodore failed to expel them, as though they were burned into his eyelids, forcing him to begin clawing at his face, attempting to seize the wretched images from his head. He collapsed in a twisted heap in the corner of the room and he mouthed unspeakable languages as his body convulsed into the morning.