I loved going to my uncles house. He was a strange man. He had never married or had any kids of his own, which gave him plenty of space in his two bedroom bachelor pad. The walls of his house were covered in shelves stacked with books, strange things he had held on to...

The whispers came in the night. They came in the moments that connect the waking to the dreaming. Vicious and appalling sounds became easy and calming in time. Hateful things in the waking became common place. New worlds opened up, new and terrible possibilities...

Skin stretched and tore to fit a new frame. What was once a beast was now man again. Panting, laying in blood his body shed, but blood that was not his own, he cried. Barriston Warmley wept for the humanity that so frequently dripped through his fingers like the tears...