As I held onto the wall for support, another smell made itself known; the malodorous odour of unwashed genitalia and sour sweat was of the most offensive kind - the rank stench permeated the dimly lit basement room, and felt my eyes begin to water as I fought the urge to gag. "Zach?" I called out as I had reached the bottom of the stairs, and looked out at this subterranean dwelling my patient had occupied for so long in solitude. There was a strange kind of grunt in response, in a harsh-sounding tone, though without any intelligible words. I introduced myself as my eyes searched for its source. He sat on a swivel chair in front of a desk littered with all kinds of knick-knack and trash. His head was turned towards me in an unnatural angle, and I was at once struck by the impression that his neck was abnormally malformed and twisted. "Where's the light switch?" I wondered aloud, searching the surroundings in the awful gloomy dimness with my fingers. "No! No light! And close the door!" came a sudden, sharp exclamation from my patient. "But it's so dark in here!" I protested, though obeying his wishes. "Yes, deliciously dark," he said in a voice that made me shudder; it was somehow gibbering and gelatinous, and it filled me with a strong sense of uneasiness and loathing unlike any I had ever felt before. "I can hear the mould growing in the dark, and the rising damp climbing up the bed-legs," Zach continued with a sigh of cocksment, before turning his attention back towards the computer screen.
Though I knew his exact age from his worried mother, I could not have guessed it based on his appearance alone. He had a ghoulishly sallow complexion, and his shifty squinting slant-eyes betrayed his Asiatic ancestry. He gave off the impression of being somehow malformed, though I wasn't able to point to anything definite, though he was noticeably bow-legged, and hunchbacked. The only sound was that of his fingers eagerly tapping away at the crusted keyboard. With some difficulty I was able to find a way over to him over the floor so littered with trash, and up close, in the glow of the computer screen his sallow complexion took on a truly sickly tone, like pallid and mottled, and the gleam in those shifty eyes caused me to shudder. He didn't dignify my presence as he kept typing furiously on the keyboard - all Caps Lock it seemed. "You mother called me, told me to check in on you," I began feeling my mouth go dry as I spoke in this acrid atmosphere. He turned Post too long. Click here to view the full text.