A warning

“You are rare, small one.”

The Tall Man speaks. I always thought that whenever him speaking was mentioned in the stories, that it was a symptom of the insanity of the writer. I was wrong. The Tall Man speaks.

I was in the library, doing more research when I felt something wrap around each of my wrists. It burned. It wasn’t hot. The tendrils were actually ice cold, yet still it burned. In hindsight, I think it was like a fever. My body was rejecting the thing’s touch. It wasn’t right. It was unnatural, unwanted, alien.

I was lifted out of the chair and turned to face the beast. The Tall Man brought me level to where its face would be, and I could feel it studying me. I shook. I struggled. I fought. Still, the grip on my wrists held me there. I took a deep breath, and accepted what was going on. This could be my death. I would go with dignity. The hold stopped burning.

“You are rare, small one.”

The voice was in my head, and in the air, and yet it was never spoken at all. It was in the way the tendrils on his back moved in a pattern, despite their chaotic writhing. It was in the feelings shooting from my wrists and into the rest of me. I can’t even describe how he communicates. I don’t remember, or it just doesn’t make sense. I only know what he said to me.

“All of you fear. Many turn to madness. To violence. Others accept. You see challenge for your mind. This is uncommon.”

He ‘said’ this as he lowered me back to the ground, but his tendrils remained around my wrists. I cannot remember if his voice was angry or sad, caring or malevolent, intrigued or disdainful. I only recall the words, only the words.

“Reaction does not matter. End will be as those before: Removed. You have been warned.”

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