The Account of Dr. Leopold Narret

Written by derula

Let it be known that while Dr. Leopold Narret was a man of consummate education and soundest mind, his account has to be understood in the sphere whence he came. Distant in both time and space from what we now understand as a real threat posed by unholy creatures of immeasurable horror, he was faced with patients recounting colorful stories of beings for the likes of which his scientific attainments held no rationalization save for the deprivation of the individual's sanity. When reading these tales, make naught the mistake to accept them as true; for had Narret known then that which we do now, his conclusions would surely have been of contrary nature. This record is released not to oppose the insights we gained about Deadhaus, but to illustrate how conservative thinking in these times will constitute a fatal blow to our goal of understanding - nay, fighting - that which eludes our forefathers' evidence-based approach; for is it not that very restriction to the known which allowed our situation to get so dire? To face this crisis, we must not accept what information is fed to us, but we must question, we must be bold. For if we fail to do so, surely we will end like Dr. Leopold Narret, which, upon reading the following chapters, you will find less and less desirable, and eventually repulsive.

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On the delusion of un-death

Oh, how little we know about the world we live in! For the unlearned and the insane, this is an unfortunate and terrifying predicament. One who is so far removed from science that they begin to question whether dreams are real or just a figment of the imagination, given a simple, yet impossible idea, will more often than is rational jump to wholly unscientific and ridiculous conclusions that would be laughable if they weren't so upsetting. In my profession, it is customary to encounter such stories on a regular basis. I am to refute such delusions, and to bring those poor minds back to reality; and in most cases, I fulfill this role to the greatest benefits of my patients. However, when met with myriad cases over countless years, it is unavoidable that a select few of them are just too far gone for salvation. They tell of poor souls who have long been left by anyone who could help them through a challenging time, void of any witnesses who could retell their stories. As a scientist, I feel obligated to preserve precisely these, to serve as important examples from which science can learn and evolve. For that reason, I note down the following three tales, true occurrences to which I bore witness in my professional life. Be advised that these subjects are mad; none of their ramblings must be mistaken for prophecy. However, there are distinct parallels in their words that the scientific community should take notice of, as it may help us understand what kind of twisted disease causes these delusions to arise.

The Bone Men of Tristburg

I first came into contact with this strange superstition when I was assigned the case of a deranged young man who had been arrested for harassing guards about some sort of preternatural threat originating from the south of Isoth. He had claimed that some unidentified forces had laid siege to Tristburg, and that they were likely to venture north and attack other human cities. His emergence took place just shortly after we learned about the unfortunate events that we now know as the Purge of Tristburg, so it is trivial to determine what triggered his delusion. However, what he described to me goes far beyond a sane man's fabrication. Reproduced here is the interlocution we shared on our first session, reconstructed from my notes.

Therapist. Mister **, good to see you. Please, make yourself comfortable.

Patient. (visibly nervous) Al...alright, thank you.

T. I have been informed of what happened, but if you please, would you mind telling me, in your own words, why you are here today?

P. They... they don't believe me. I only told what I saw! They must know! We have to be ready!

T. Well, you see, what you say is very hard to believe, is it not? Would you not expect them to be cautious about trusting your descriptions?

P. I... probably, but I know what I saw! I don't want to believe it either, but it is the truth! We cannot just ignore it, or it will lead to our doom!

T. Then tell me, what is it that you did see?

P. Al...alright. But you must believe me, and tell them that I'm not insane!

T. Who am I to call you insane, if what you are telling me is but precisely what you saw? That is not my place. I'm only here to help.

P. I... would like to believe that.

T. I cannot prove it to you, unless you tell me your story.

P. (after a pause) The fire... it came so quickly. It was no natural fire. We had no time to react, or means to put it out.

T. Your pain of losing your home and loved ones must be great.

P. Y-yes, it is, but I, I made it, I got out. Gather I'm the only one...?

T. So they say.

P. So they say. So nobody can confirm what I saw. Funny how that works.

T. So it is.

P. Bu-but, it is as I tell you - the flames were no natural occurrence, they were caused by men.

T. Are you telling me, a group of men set the entire town on fire?

P. Yes! That is what happened. Though they did not use torches or explosives.

T. They did not?

P. No! They were causing the flames without... touching anything. They just lifted their arms and the flames rose around them.

T. Would they not get burned themselves?

P. They sometimes did.

T. Why would they do that?

P. It did not seem to bother them. They would just walk through the flames, enter the houses, making sure there were no survivors.

T. But you escaped them?

P. I don't know how. I just remember I started running. And... here I am.

T. You say those men could walk through fire. What kind of protection were they wearing?

P. They were... (eyes widen) they, they weren't.

T. A kind of garb, or...?

P. They may have, but not when I saw them. (shaken) The flames, they, they scorched them. But they did not mind.

T. Let's focus on the moment you first saw one of those men.

P. Of-of course.

T. Close your eyes and tell me what you see.

P. (closes eyes, pauses) He is tall. And skinny. Maybe, maybe too skinny. His flesh, it's not normal. He, he cannot be alive, but he's moving, stalking.

T. What do you mean, his flesh is not normal?

P. It's... off. Missing in some places. Hanging loose in others. I can see his bones!

T. What is he doing?

P. Searching. Making sure everyone is dead. I do not move. Hope he leaves.

As the patient was clearly distraught, and his account unmistakably irrational, I ended my line of questioning there and allowed him to calm down. We had several sessions after this, and over time it became clear that he did at no point mistake the figures he saw for something that was alive. Yet, he believed to have witnessed them move and act - perhaps even speak! - in ways he could only fathom as originating from living creatures. No doubt in his traumatic flight he must have seen unthinkable horrors - dead and half-dead people, some he knew and some he did not, the dying ones pleading for him to help; yet all he could do was run. Cowardly, some may argue, but retrospectively perhaps the only way he could have survived the ordeal. That is when he started to miss his appointments. I knew that he had not been well, but he had been making progress, and admitting that what he thought he had seen could have been perverted by his stress and paramount dread. It was only weeks later that a confused investigator paid me a visit, informing me of his gruesome and unexplained demise, and asking me what I knew.

The Screamer from the Woods

The relentless light of the waning crescent moon has driven many a man close to insanity. It was under that same moon that my second patient first came into contact with her aberration. At first, it was but a low nightly sound that began to affect her sleep. Concerned about its origin, she searched the house for any insect or rodent, but none could be found. After a week or two of the sound growing more and more prominent, she opened her bedroom window and stared out into the night. That was when her superstition started fooling her with visual hallucinations as well, as she believed to perceive, at the entrance to the southern woods, the figure of a beautiful, lightly clad young woman. From the swaying motion of her body and the whimpering sound that had been disturbing my patient's sleep, she could only assume that the figure was weeping.

P. She seemed positively shaken. She must have been cold, too.

T. And you surmise that it was she whom you had witnessed crying at nights for weeks?

P. (nods) I... I felt sorry for her. But I was also lacking sleep. And, admittedly, terrified to a degree.

T. Did she appear again?

P. Every night when the moon was out. Always in the same place.

T. Could it have been a reflection of the moonlight playing tricks on you?

P. (vehemently shakes head) Wish it were true.

T. How can you be so sure?

P. Because I... (stares at me with terror-stricken eyes) I confronted her.

T. You... went to her and saw her up close?

P. (nods) She... was facing away, weeping, right behind the first row of trees.

T. And what did you do?

P. I meant to ask her what was wrong, or how I could help, but ere I could say a word- (hesitates)

T. ...she noticed your approach?

P. (nods slowly, as if in doubt) She froze as if she noticed me. But she couldn't have heard my footsteps over her weeping, and my shadow fell behind me.

T. What happened next?

P. I stopped in my tracks, terror slowly overpowering me. I realized I knew nothing about this woman.

T. What did she look like?

P. She was very pretty. Under-dressed, but though she had shivered while weeping, now she was still like a tree.

T. (motions to continue)

P. After what seemed like a long time - but probably was not - she suddenly turned around and... produced this horrible, ghastly sound.

T. What kind of sound was that?

P. It was like she was shrieking, yet it was no sound any human could emit.

T. You would be surprised about how loud a man can get when drunk and merry.

P. (shakes head) No, not like that. It was more like the cry of a monster.

T. So you say it was not only loud, but also of an alien quality?

P. (nods) It was not like anything I had ever heard. And, more horribly, her jaw, her terrible, terrible jaw...

T. What about her jaw?

P. It... opened too far. Like a snake swallowing a rabbit. Her horrible mouth was gigantic, and I... I ran.

T. Certainly the suddenness of her reaction caused your brain to visualize your anxiety.

P. I... I know what I saw, but I also know that it is impossible.

T. But you got away?

P. I am not sure how.

T. Did she disappear as well?

P. (shakes head) No, she is still there, weeping every night, keeping me awake.

T. You could not make her leave?

P. I asked for help. I had people stay with me overnight. I wanted them to see her. But, alas...

T. They couldn't?

P. (shakes head) She only appears when I'm alone.

In the following sessions, we established that the mysterious woman must be a figment of her imagination. Gradually, I helped my patient move past her fear. I taught her, as you do, to confront the problem head-on, not to flinch, but to allow the visions to wash over her and to move past them. For most patients, all they need is the courage to stand up to their illusion to realize that it cannot harm them. It is not physical, and therefore will not hurt you. Unfortunately, it became evident that I misjudged the gravity of her delusion. Several days after our last session, which I had found to have had a very positive and optimistic outlook, as she had finally built up the courage to confront her fears, which I of course encouraged, I was informed that she had been found dead in the woods near her house, mauled to death by wolves. In fact, the person who brought this news to me was the same investigator who had previously sought my council after the "bone men" incident, and she seemed somewhat suspicious about my involvement in both cases. Ultimately, of course, I was able to demonstrate that I was merely helping these confused individuals, and that their untimely deaths, while gruesome and deplorable, resulted from the deterioration of their own minds and could not possibly have been prevented by any man.

The Flesh Eater

There exists a superstition among the common folk that dreams are more than just random discharges of electricity in a state of paramountly reduced somatic functions. Fueled by pseudo-scientific frauds claiming they can see beyond the veil of reality to access hidden information in the fantastical dream-world, this belief lingers in people's mind and can never be eradicated by rational arguments or science. So it comes as little surprise that some fragile humans would assume these vivid visions to be harbingers of real-world events to come, be it a promise of paradise or a prophecy of damnation. Such was the fate of a young man, who came to me after seeing dæmoniacal creatures in his sleep.

T. How long have you been having these visions?

P. Many moons, must have been.

T. How often do you have them?

P. Every night. I wake up bathed in sweat. Multiple times.

T. So they are nightmares?

P. They are... more akin to a message. A warning for mankind.

T. How so?

P. They are continuous. They tell a story of transformation.

T. What kind of transformation?

P. From man to beast.

T. Please, elaborate.

P. It started with a man. A man with sinister intentions. A man who, fueled by his status of nobility, began to hunger for human flesh.

T. How do you mean?

P. It was a display of superiority at first. By eating a public enemy, he meant to shake the resistance in their boots.

T. But then it changed into more?

P. The resistance did not desist, but instead was fueled by his action. As was, in turn, the nobleman's desire to literally devour its members.

T. Was it this hunger that made him change?

P. That's what seems to be implied.

T. What kind of change did he go through?

P. Horrible, disgusting change. I dare not speak of it all. But, over time, he turned more and more into what I can only describe as a monster.

T. His nobility gave way to monstrosity?

P. So you could say.

T. Why do you think you are getting this message?

P. I believe that it is a warning of a darkness yet to come. An age as horrible as it is frightening. Where the dominant species are not men, but beasts.

T. So, how can I help with this message?

P. You cannot. I am not here to get my message heard.

T. Do you not want to warn mankind?

P. I do, and I have tried. Went here and there. To people in power. To the streets. To my friends and family.

T. And what happened with that?

P. They laugh at me. They ridicule me. They despise me. There is not a man alive who will take me seriously.

T. Do you think they are right to do so?

P. (shakes head) They are foolish. But I cannot go on like this. If they don't want to hear the message, there is nothing I can do but to turn it off.

T. And that's why you are here?

P. (nods) To get rid of the visions. A message that nobody wants to hear might as well not be sent at all.

T. It is very brave of you to make that step, and I promise I will do my best to help you.

P. Can you make those horrors go away? Nowadays I can't look at a nobleman without being plagued by visions of flesh eating and gradual decay.

T. I can show you the door, but you will have to go through it yourself. It won't be easy, but the fact that you are here means that the hardest step is done.

P. Thank you, doctor. I don't think I can live like this for much longer. I just want to sleep in peace.

T. We will find a way.

As the inclined reader may have estimated at this point, a way we did not find. Rational though this patient seemed, even after several sessions he could not accept the truth that his dreams were not some mystical message, but his own mind playing tricks on him. This acceptance would have been instrumental to begin his recovery, but never occurred. Often have I pondered if there was an error in my process, but I consistently came to the same conclusion that I was not to blame for the lack of progress. Eventually, like with the previous victims, appointments were missed, and I was finally informed that my patient had suffered a gruesome death, his body being discovered by a gardener on the cemetery grounds one peaceful morning in April, half-eaten and barely recognizable.

Triumph of rational thought

The next day, ineluctably and unsurprisingly, said investigator paid me a visit, significantly less easily sated by reason than the previous times. Unabashedly, she informed me that I was the prime suspect in all three murder cases. Not because of my failure to cure those poor individuals, but because of the common pattern of people, stripped of all social contacts, seeking my aid, and then being found dead at increasing levels of disfigurement. The assumption was that I saw their weaknesses, presumed that nobody would miss them, and judged that they were a threat to society. Thus prejudiced, I would commence the horrible act of brutally murdering them, and leaving their bodies exposed as a sort of sociopathic means to degrade them.
Calmly, I explained to her the concept of confirmation bias, and the statistical ludicrousness of her and her colleagues' conclusions. While keeping my medical confidentiality, I was able to show her that it is absolutely not unusual for my patients to be void of social contacts, and that I would not shy away from talking to them for years on end until a satisfactory level of recovery was achieved. Despite my inner upset about these allegations, I thus managed to reason all of her heated arguments away. After a few hours of discourse, a disillusioned and clueless young investigator left my office, leaving us both pondering the mysterious deaths of those three individuals. But two things were apparent to both of us: that the victims were clinically insane, and that there was no such thing as magical, un-dead creatures. There are no Bone Men, no Screamers, no Flesh Eaters; those superstitions exist but in the minds of the deranged.