70 confused, and I looked back at the ship as I waited for a response. Right through the airlock windows I could see a hand against the window, a hand with a moon tattoo. “Khalis!” I gasped, reaching out instinctively towards the hand. I started programing a return sequence to the ship to get Khalis, only to stop when I saw that the hand wasn’t attached to anything. <strong>The</strong> bone was partially exposed, and skin was hanging off where it had been detached. It was being held up.
71 <strong>The</strong> Nascent Horror Bryce Simmons Although my hands tremble from the psycho-somatic shock of having borne witness to atrocities of which I will not speak, I will to the best of my ability relate the chronicle of death, matricide, and obscenely despicable possession that has wrought my tremulous state. My name is Eric Maxwell, and I will begin my tale at a point in medias res, both for the sake of time—for I do not know the duration of my captor’s dispossession— and oddly, clarity; for even though the beginnings of my story are relevant, they would only serve to muddy what is already a fantastical and admittedly dubious narrative. All that you must know is that I was in pursuit of a woman whom I believed to have stolen from me a very important heirloom. I had suspected her kleptomaniac tendencies early on in her employment as my