The Liquid

I write this account of the events which I have been involved in, so that no matter what the official position of the authorities is, there will at least be some record of what actually transpired. My studies at the academy often caused me to spend large quantities of my time within the library, and it was there that this whole scenario began. I was conducting research on various hypothetical amalgams thought to be producible through alchemy. While the Philosopher’s Stone and the Elixir of Life might be the goals most frequently sought after by use of that arcane science, there are a myriad of other equally desirable things to be gained by its practice. While searching for a particular volume by Agrippa, I slipped and fell straight back, jarring my head considerably upon the floor. When the lights in my eyes and the ringing in my ears receded sufficiently, I espied a book far under the shelves next to which I lay.

I was able to retrieve the tome by lying flat on my stomach, and after fishing it out took it to the table where I had been studying. It was thick with dust on the cover, although beneath it there was no title, just black leather. The pages revealed it to be a journal recording the experiments of one Byron Shelley. Most entries detailed research into anatomy, and the biological effects of electricity, neither of which interested me in the slightest, but there was one which caught my eye. It alluded to a theoretical compound which produced extraordinary transmutations when an electrical current was applied to it. While the author’s proposed use for this substance, which was ghastly to say the least, seemed rather unlikely to succeed, the formula which they had offered for it was most intriguing.

With a mean amount of effort I was able to produce a variation of the proposed compound. My first experiment was exhilarating. A small electrical current was run into the beaker through a metallic probe. The purplish liquid swirled violently a moment, and then began to grow out of the beaker, its mass increasing at an extraordinary rate as it formed a pattern quite similar to a tree. I disconnected the current and it collapsed back into its liquid state, however, there was now a sizable amount more of it. I repeated this several times, with varying strengths of electricity, and each time the results were the same, save that the rate of growth, and the subsequent additional amount of the substance which was created, were both proportional to the amount of current.

In only a week’s time I had gone from the 100ml I had originally produced, to having in excess of 20 litres of this unique substance. I had told no one of my discovery yet, which was not terribly difficult as my friends were few in number, and they were equally devoted to their own fields of research. Eventually, however, one of them, Charles M. Byrnes did come calling at my rooms. I would not allow him in, although he certainly made every effort to gain entrance, especially once he took note of all the jars of purple liquid which I had stacked on shelf. Likewise did I deflect his questions about what I had been pursuing of late, and after a few minutes time he departed.

As I returned to my work table I noticed that the window was slightly ajar. The culprit was most likely the orange tabby that my neighbor, one floor above, kept for a pet. It had wandered into my rooms on several occasions, but left readily enough once I shooed it out. I began searching about for it, and had almost given up when I spotted it under the work table. I made a sudden move to grab it, and knocked into the edge of the table slightly, spilling the open vial of the purple liquid onto the cat as it darted away from my grasp. Immediately, the cat began shuddering violently, and all manner of odd growths began to protrude out of it. Its paws split, on up through its legs, forming stalks of tentacle like appendages. Its face became elongated and split in the middle giving the appearance of some horrid insect’s mandible pincers. Orange fur turned to a mass of bubbling pod like things that began bursting open, spraying some awful discharge. The jars containing the rest of the liquid shook violently on the shelf, the liquid itself swirling and frothing about within. The creature that had, until quite recently, been a cat turned its head and stared at me with pupiless black eyes.

Shrieking in terror, I ran to my desk where I kept a revolver, and quickly grabbed it out of the top drawer. I turned back to the abomination which was ambling towards me on a mass of tentacles and emptied all six rounds into it. It collapsed on the ground, leaking the purple substance out onto the floor boards. A few shots of whiskey calmed me enough to think about what I ought to do. Donning all the protective garments I possessed, I set to cleaning up the corpse, which was quite difficult to look at, much less to touch, even with several layers between it and my skin. After sufficiently cleansing the floor of any trace of the creature or the substance, I took the bundle which I had placed the creature in and struck out for the wood, intending to burn the awful thing.

I walked into the forest for half an hour, wanting to be sure I would not be seen. Hastily constructing a fire pit, I tossed in my burden, doused it with a bit of petrol, and set it ablaze. The sounds it emitted, all crackles and pops, gave me the impression that it was still alive, and indeed it did seem to writhe about a few times as if in anguish. All night I tended the fire, needing to be sure the ghastly thing was no more. At dawn there was naught but some bones left amongst the ash in the pit, and satisfied, I began the trek back to my rooms.

Once there, exhaustion claimed me and I slept until late in the afternoon. Upon waking I almost took the whole incident to be an awful dream, were it not for my neighbor, one floor up, whom came knocking at my door. He was most concerned about me, as he was certain he had heard gunshots the previous night and alerted the authorities, but when the authorities arrived my rooms were vacant, nor were there any signs of a struggle. After expressing his relief to see I was unharmed, he inquired as to if I had seen his cat anywhere, apparently it had been gone since yesterday afternoon. I told him I did not know what became of his cat, but would be certain to keep an eye out for it.

After he left I pondered what I should so with this liquid. It was obviously very dangerous, and the risk of it contacting me, or some other living thing was quite high. Still, there were many things in the scientific community that spelled death to those whom worked with them, were they not careful. I elected to at the least have a meal before reckoning a decision, so I headed down to the pub for some beef and a few pints. Right outside the door to the pub I encountered Byrnes, whom asked if I should care for some company, to which I replied I preferred to dine alone as I had much on my mind to ponder. He acquiesced and departed, and I entered and took some supper.

Upon returning to my rooms I noticed the door slightly ajar, and on peeking in I saw Byrnes standing over my work table, reading my journal. He turned and looked at me saying “This is really quite remarkable!!! What you’ve done here could change the world!!!”

I gasped, screaming “Get away from that table!!! Don’t read that!!! “ I rushed towards him and grabbed my journal from his hands. “Please, don’t become involved in this, my folly should be mine alone to bear the consequences of.”

Byrnes gave me a queer look, saying “Oh, I see, aren’t willing to share the glory. Well I won’t try and take it from, it is your work after all, I was just so intrigued by your behavior of late, and this strange purple liquid…”

He moved to pick a jar up from the shelf and I snatched at his hand, which he reflexive drew back. He stumbled over some unseen snare on the floor and fell backwards into the shelf. The jars came crashing down, spilling their contents all over him. I staggered backward, distancing myself from the transformation he immediately began undergoing. His clothing tore asunder as his form swelled and ballooned in random locations. The skin on his arms peeled back, as if the rind of a banana, and the tissue beneath formed tendrils like some red, wet ivy. Several tentacle-like things began pouring out of his mouth, stretching the edges of it until the skin finally split, revealing a writing mass of sickening organic shapes, all pushing against one another and straining at the air. A large opening, akin to a mouth, opened in his abdomen, replete with jagged formations pointing inward, that oddly resembled the teeth of a shark. The visage before me, that had once been my friend, slowly levitated away from the floor and began moving about in a fashion that seemed quite aimless. My mind cracked under the pressure and I tore out of the building, screaming for help, trying to alert the authorities to the putrid mass that was now in my apartment.

One of the local police force was patrolling square in front of my building, and I ran up to him screaming about the horror which now occupied my rooms. He attempted to calm me down, but I would have none of it and continued on with my fevered pleas to summon the whole of the force and eradicate the abomination that I had wrought. The officer insisted on going and having a look before he would sound the general alarm, so I waited nervously in the square for what seemed like eons. When he emerged he was entirely incoherent, babbling and ranting in much the same fashion as I assume I was.

I realized that if anything was to be done it would be I who must act. Running around the back and into the basement I found a few canisters of petrol. The fear that seized me should have prevented me from ascending the stairs to my apartment, but perhaps the sense of duty was able to outweigh it, and I alighted at my front door. Peeking through the crack I espied the grotesque form of my former friend, which had now grown to a size which filled nearly a third of the room. Numberless eyes, with neither lid nor pupil, now appeared in the most unlikely places, as well as several mouths whose jagged teeth gnashed at the air.

Hurriedly, I opened the canisters of petrol, poured two into the room, and walked out of the building, pouring the third out behind me and giving the alarm of fire as I went. I dared not wait for the poor souls who occupied the other apartments to vacate, lest the creature escape, so I struck a match and lit the trail of liquid I had made, sending the flame quickly along its path. The conflagration which erupted from my windows was massive.

Many folk were gathered in the square, staring at the amorphous form which gyrated and contorted in the fire. The fire brigade came running up, and I threw myself upon them, screaming that they must let it burn. They were able to subdue me after a few minutes, but I had delayed them long enough that there was no dousing the flames. Thankfully, the remaining occupants were rescued in time. By dawn the building was naught by a pile of ash and rubble. I begged them to let me search the rubble, stating that I would gladly go with them after doing so, but they refused.

So I was led off and placed in the cell in which I now sit waiting to face the magistrate. My inquiries as to the state of the officer whom had ventured in first have gone unanswered, but I should very much doubt he has recovered from the shock of what he beheld. As I write this the prosecutor sits at the end of the hall writing up the documents which will likely seal my fate. I have sat and watched him, despairing when an officer came in and set a jar upon his desk, filled with purple liquid.